


On The Other Side

by Malice_and_Macarons



Series: Monochrome Universe [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Double Agents, Drugs, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Language, Multi, Organized Crime, Past Child Abuse, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7866097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malice_and_Macarons/pseuds/Malice_and_Macarons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is your poison of choice? A coin, a riddle or is it the money? </p><p>Whatever it is, it is not worth this. Not worth the incredible aggravation Ward faces daily. Honestly super villains ought to have been a little more mature and playing double agent to be taken a touch more seriously. But that'd be asking too much wouldn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unemployed

**Author's Note:**

> Don't look at me. I'm just pumping these damn things out like mad.
> 
> Anyway this particular story takes place further in the future than the others. Sitting somewhere after The Line and When In Rome. For now it's more an introduction than anything else.

Gotham was a mess. But then again, when had it ever not been one massive disaster on top of another?

In the past year the city had been riddled with one maniac after another. Ravaged by turf wars between bosses and there’d even been a few more Joker related nightmares than anyone was willing to admit. It was hardly unusual for Gotham to be experiencing these horrors. But the sheer volume and frequency was beginning to have people concerned. Even the most hardened of Gotham’s citizens had started to stir as the uneasiness grew more potent with every day.

They were a city waiting for the final shoe to drop.

The military almost looked like an improvement on being a GCPD cop. But there were just some luxuries that couldn’t be afforded or desired once tarnished. So here he was. 

Ward sighed, the sound grating on his lungs even as he took another drag from his cigarette. Should have stopped years ago, shouldn’t have ever started in the first place but not too many people grew old in Gotham. If cancer got him it would be a far gentler death than most others in the city. 

Besides, he needed this one. 

“Well, get to it.” Ward ground out, fingers pinching the cigarette in his hand harshly. “Am I going home disappointed or not?” 

The disinterest in his voice was nothing more than a thin veil of contempt to cover a larger underlying concern. He needed money, living in Gotham was not cheap and the Daun family had never been from particularly wealthy pastures. They belonged to the other side of Gotham.

The one not holding banquets and playing around like royalty. The ones that stuck to the shadows and mingled closer to criminals in the slums than they would gods like Bruce Wayne. Gotham was inherently a rich man’s city, they were just the degenerates that worked under them.

They were the human filth and fodder of Gotham City. 

And god did this human trash _need_ this job. 

If Ward’s rudeness put off the office standing in front of him, he hardly let it show. Wouldn’t have mattered if Cash had, Ward was too busy making and effort not to stare at the man’s metal hand. Hand was putting it generously, the thing was a hook and Ward vaguely wondered how easily it could be used to slit a human throat.

Better yet, how useful it might have been against a crocodile. In all likelihood, Cash had also considered this.

“Mr. Daun.” Officer Cash began, tone tinged with impatience. Ward would have been more concerned had the officer not always sounded like that. Even when his mood was a considerably good one, he had that same tone.

“Your application to work at GCPD is shaky at best. You pass all the tests with flying colors, and you know your way around the city. However your position is a insecure one.” Ward bit down a sigh. Here it comes, the usual nail in the coffin. “Having been dishonorably discharged.”

All at once a familiar swell of rage bubbled up inside of Ward. The urge to defend himself had angry comments on the tip of his tongue, so he bit down to choke the words before they could get free.

He knew better, no matter what he argued it was pointless – he had been dishonorably discharged. His name tarnished and no matter how much he protested the truth of the allegations – the decision had been made. He lived with it now.

Once the initial surge of indignation had settled back down to a low burn in his stomach, Ward gave a stiff nod. He was well aware of his own position. Letting his resentment get the better of him wouldn’t help his case.

“Now in Gotham we take whatever we can manage.” Cash continued, exhaustion heavy in his tone. “We’re always understaffed, there aren’t nearly enough good cops left in this city as it is. Despite the nature of your discharge we were willing to at least consider your application.”

It went unsaid, but Cash knew much of the police force was corrupt. Gordon had been making efforts since he was appointed commissioner to weed out that corruption and bring some sort of good grace back into the force. But it was a deep-rooted problem and even after years of weeding they were still being overrun. 

They needed more men. They needed more _good_ men. While Ward’s record didn’t exactly endear him, it seemed Cash was willing to take whatever help he could get where he could get it.

Cash paused, sizing up the silent man sitting in front of him. There was a very obvious moment when Cash’s mind switched from patient to ‘fuck it’. With a small sigh he tossed down Ward’s files, the man didn’t so much as flinch at the sound. 

But the mood had shifted. Suddenly the little room with only a desk between the pair of them felt less like a job interview and more like an honest to go interrogation. Ward tensed slightly, eyes flickering from the metal table under his clasped hands and the now strewn about files, to the hardened cop standing in front of him.

This was not right. Ward realized with a small start, this really wasn't an interview anymore. Not the kind he’d signed up for anyway.

The very air around them seemed to thin out, leaving Ward struggling to even out his breathing grasping his fingers so tightly they turned white. It would not have surprised him if the oxygen in the room had been replaced with fear gas.

“What exactly do you want to talk with me about?” Ward asked slowly, each word measured and guarded. Then tacked on a terse, “ _Sir_.”

Cash again was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the tense man as if searching for some sign that this was worth the time spent arguing with Gordon.

“We need more people.” Cash repeated slowly. The words sounding almost painful to say. “But we don’t need them here. We need them out there.”

Ward looked up, his eyes holding all the questions that he didn’t dare voice. Not yet, not out of turn. Cash had allowed him a small level of rebellion already, not ordering the cigarette be put out, even as the stick grew shorter and shorter. Left seemingly forgotten to burnout. He’d even allowed the potential recruit a bit of lip.

“The city is going to hell, being run by more underground groups and mob bosses than even the cheesiest noir movies. We can manage petty thugs just fine, basic robberies, crimes of passion – the usual stuff is easy. Organized crime is a bit more difficult to keep tabs on.”

Now he had the potential recruit’s undivided attention.

Good, because he was going to need it for the proposal that came next. 

“We need people on the other side.” Cash clarified and knew that his meaning had finally sunk in when Ward startled. Back snapping up straight as his hand unintentionally crushed the cigarette.

Ward was a local boy, he knew exactly what was being proposed here and exactly how many different kinds of dead he would be should he accept.

“You’re offering me a job.” Ward murmured in disbelief. “You’re offering me a death sentence.” 

Cash said nothing to contradict the young man and stayed silent as Ward laughed. The sound very nearly hysterical and Cash most certainly didn’t stop the kid from reaching for another cigarette to replace the one he’d ruined. The boy was going to need all the small comforts he could get for this one.

Ward’s hands were shaking as he lit up the second one. His head was going a hundred miles a minute. Nobody would fault him, anyone that lived in Gotham for any amount of time knew exactly what the city was like just under the surface. Sometimes not even that, sometimes it was right there in everyone’s face. 

All that was enough to give Ward time for pause but his mind kept circling back to a different matter. He was being offered a job; they were actually considering taking him despite his record. They would take him.

He could make money.

Gulping, Ward steeled himself and took another drag of his cigarette before speaking words that might condemn him. “What’s on the table? Exactly.”

“Undercover.” Cash said immediately, striding forward to the table between them and placing down a totally separate set of files. These ones were blank on the outside but Ward knew that they’d be far more interesting than his had been underneath.

“It’ll be your job to report back to us on any movements made by the gang you’re assigned to. You’ll have to do most of it on your own – wires or any other form of open communication will get your found out in a microsecond. These criminals, some of them, are more highly armed than this own station. So when you go in, you do so clean everywhere except in your head. You won’t take photos, write down notes, nothing. Everything you carry out will have to be in your head. All you have to do is keep your head down and gather any information you can.”

Cash listed off the basics, keeping a keen eye on the boy’s face as he spoke. Looking for any sign the boy was about to turn pale and pass out on him. Instead he saw Ward looking at the file placed in front of him like it was a chance. A chance locked in a jar of barbed wire and salt water. 

He wasn’t sure if Ward was willing to dive in or not yet. 

“They kill their own men on spot.” Ward muttered, hands clutching the file tightly as he slowly flicked through the papers. Each one being handled with care and disgust at what he was reading. “A failed riddle, a joke not laughed at – for breathing. How do you expect to even get a mole into even one of these places?”

“With your position.”

Ward looked up, eyes hard and narrowed. “My dishonorable discharge.”

“A disgruntled ex military man who was rejected from the police force.” Cash listed off the lie that had just a hint of truth to it. “Furious, humiliated and stupid with youth – he joins a gang to get his revenge and put his talents to go use. To steal money he rightfully deserved.”

It was a convincing story, a familiar story actually. The sort that littered Gotham. It was the perfect cover, one that was not unique but just meaty enough to convince a boss that it was a thug waiting to be ordered around. Anything to stab back at the people they felt slighted by.

He thought about the little apartment he was currently living in. Thought about the cockroaches and the expired milk in his mini fridge – the fact that he was already due rent and a cardboard box was going to be the next best thing. That or move in with his sister and frankly the box looked like a better option. 

Their family needed money as well. Ward knew that his sister was running out of clever ideas to keep her own place and she was still living in that damn shed with all her broken gadgets. Their brother was better off but Ward knew he was in a bad position. In danger.

But then again, in Gotham who wasn’t in danger?

More than anything else, they needed the money to keep paying for their baby brother’s schooling. That was the real problem, keeping Archer safe and moving up in the world. They had to pretend they weren’t struggling or he’d drop out of college to work. Boy had more heart than he did common sense. 

They needed this. 

Ward must have been almost crazy enough to land himself in Arkham because god forbid – he was actually considering taking this job.

“Say I agree, take this job…” Ward began slowly and Cash knew a foot in the door when he saw it.

“You won’t have any trouble paying that rent or keeping your cupboards stocked for a very, very long time.”

It was tempting. Ward could feel himself being swayed as he read over the proposal. It was presented bluntly, no sugar coating this potential suicide mission.

On the files there was information on himself, the proposed offer and the money it would provide. Looking over the number, Ward’s eyes widened a fraction and he took the cigarette out of his mouth to curse lowly in quiet appreciation. It would most certainly cover his rent. 

Beyond that information there were propositions on exactly what form of death he’d prefer. Which gang he might be able to join. It was presented as an offer but Ward noticed a small note under the different gang names that stated the decision would ultimately fall to the police commissioner. 

So he was just being asked for a preference – how considerate of them.

“What’s this?” Ward asked abruptly. Reaching the end of the fifth page only to catch something strange in the wording. It was plural, as in multiple officers undercover. “You got more recruits going for this?”

“Three in total.” Cash answered flatly. 

“I’m competing for the right to die in a gang war then, am I?” Ward drawled, feeling a need to be vindictive with his wording. They all knew exactly what this was and Ward was not about to spare them his considerable amount of scorn.

“Not quite.” Cash corrected Ward and there was a stale smirk on the man’s face. Prompting Ward’s curiosity, the expression was akin to something a guilty man would wear when he felt blameless. There was more to this.

“We will be sending three people in, each to monitor a different threat. You’ll be just one of these three.”

“Where are the other two then?” Ward asked flatly, only for the door to the interrogation room to swing open. Had he been more suspicious Ward would have thought they’d set themselves up for that entrance.

Ward glanced up at the now open door. At first all he saw was another officer in uniform and mistakenly assumed this was one of the other people going undercover. Then the officer moved and Ward was hit with both confusion and unwilling understanding all at once.

The papers landed back on the metal table with a loud thud, and Ward was suddenly up and in Cash’s face. To the officer’s credit he didn’t so much as take a step back as Ward’s hands slammed down on the metal table with a resounding bang.

“You’re crazy if you think for one damn second I’d ever agree to this!” Ward snarled, very nearly shouting the words.

The officer by the door flinched and dove for his gun but Cash waved him off with a hard look. The nervous officer’s hand still lingered as if expecting Ward to really lunge at his boss.

When in Gotham…

Cash looked at Ward with a steely, unmoved stare. Ward met it with his own glare. It was unlikely this officer was the only one behind this but he was the mouthpiece. The one Ward was currently sharing a living space in. The one that put forward this insane idea to begin with, so he was the one dealing with the brunt of Ward’s outrage. 

“Heya, bro!” Ward groaned, shoulders slumping forward as the petite body behind the spooked guard pushed forward and into the room. Whatever form of intimidation he’d been angling for drained away as the younger girl darted into the room, beaming from ear to ear. 

“Clio…” Ward lamented, turning to face his little sister with what he hoped was a stern look as opposed to a pleading one. “What the hell are you doing here?”

As if he wasn’t perfectly aware of where this little stunt was headed.

“Job offer.” Glancing up Ward met with his other younger sibling’s eyes. Caiden stood in the doorway, content to hold back and wait while Clio had rushed on in. “Same as you.”

With three Daun children suddenly in the small space it felt incredibly crowded. Caiden could make himself tiny in the corner but Clio filled up all the space she could with her energy and Ward was an imposing force. As if he thought through sheer force of will alone he could will this situation away. 

All the while Cash stood back and sized up the trio. They were all massively flawed, but they’d been the ones he made the calls to. Should the offer be accepted he could outline exactly why. The first hurdle was to get them to agree. It was not a task anyone took lightly.

“This is ridiculous!” Ward snapped, turning back towards Cash with a snarl. The older officer didn’t seem at all phased by Ward’s anger. 

“This is the deal on the table.” He reasoned flatly.

“You expect me to let my brother and sister sign up for this suicide mission? No way, no way in fucking hell.”

“I expect two grown adults to make their own decisions.” Ward might have really taken a swing at Cash in that moment. He was furious, burning with a rage he hadn’t felt since facing the people that issued him with a dishonorable discharge. 

It was true, none of them were children anymore. Even their youngest was already in his early twenties and Archer was blissfully absent from this line up. Ward was the oldest, he’d practically raised these kids himself – of course he would feel entitled to at least have some say in this.

But at the end of the day he couldn’t stop them from doing anything. He’d tried to in the past but it was apparently a family fault in the Daun’s – stubbornness.

“I’ll leave the three of you to consider our offer.” Cash gave Ward one last lingering stare before marching right out of the little room with the other officer scampering after him. 

The very second the door shut, Ward turned on the pair.

“What in blazes do you two think you’re doing? Are you trying to turn me grey before I hit forty?” He demanded, looking between the two of them like they had lost their minds.

“Arron called up and asked us if we wanted a job!” Clio recounted excitedly, the girl buzzing around the room. Inspecting every little thing she could get her hands on. Couldn’t stand still for a second, not even to listen to her older brother’s scolding. 

Clio was their youngest next to Archer. She’d never been particularly focused, at least not on anything she was supposed to focus on. If she wasn’t moving she was talking, if she wasn’t talking, she was tinkering. School had been a nightmare of course, she simply had too many answers that were not what people wanted to hear and a hundred more questions that shouldn’t be asked. 

It was almost a relief when she finally bailed out of school. Perusing a mechanic apprenticeship. It was almost a relief to see her out of her lair but Ward would have much preferred she stay there rather than come looking for an exploit like this. Clio wasn’t taking this seriously, she never did. 

She’d just picked up the files when Caiden’s hand came down and pushed them back onto the table. Giving his sister a level stare before turning that same disinterested look onto Ward.

“Mr. Cash contacted us with an offer. Not unlike yourself.” He reasoned. Ever the analytical one, if just a little callous. 

“I applied to be a cop, not a sacrificial pawn.”

“So you were about to refuse his offer?” Caiden pressed and Ward’s teeth clenched together in frustration.

The little shit had a point and Ward had never been in the habit of lying to his family. The closest he got was a little white lie they shared to Archer. 

To protect him.

Caiden would pick apart such flimsy arguments without a second thought so Ward didn’t bother putting them forward in the first place.

“You do realize what this is right?” Ward asked, exasperated with the pair of them. “This isn’t a kid’s game. The people they’re talking about are criminals, serial killers – nut jobs. They’ll kill you if you so much as look at them wrong.” 

“Welcome to Gotham.” Caiden drawled, dropping down into the seat Cash had refused to use during his discussion with Ward.

While the younger brother began to flip through the proposal he’d refused to let Clio handle, Ward turned to their sister and tried to appeal to her instead. Clio might not have been as sensible as their brother but she was far less driven by money. Caiden was willing to die for a good buck.

“I’ve got nothing better to do. What can I say, this is pretty exciting.” Clio shrugged, a guiltless grin playing out on her face. She wouldn't die for the coin but she’d certainly die for the adventure. Ward hadn’t factored in his sister’s sever hatred for boredom. 

“You’re serious.” Ward breathed, mortified with the two of them. He couldn’t believe it. “Both of you.” 

Clio’s grin brightened as she swung off the back of Caiden’s seat, peering over his shoulder down at the papers. Oh god, they really were. 

Groaning, Ward snuffed out his cigarette. Knowing it would win him no brownie points with the other two. He could not believe his piss poor luck, he had to be born with siblings just as suicidal as himself.

“We need the money.” Caiden rationalized, not looking up from the papers in his hands. “I need a new job.”

“You’ve been working just fine up until now.” Ward argued bitterly.

“I need a new job.” Caiden repeated firmly. “Mr. Sionis came to visit the office last week.” There was a pause and then in the same tone he delivered all news, Caiden continued. “He hates my face.” 

Abruptly it became very clear to Ward exactly why Caiden needed a new job. Sionis Industries might have a legal front but everyone knew Black Mask had an entirely less legal operation playing behind the scenes. In fact his gang was on that list currently in Caiden’s hands. He was staring at it.

If Sionis didn’t like Caiden then…well he was right to try and get out while he still could. If he still could. His little brother might not have been a particularly emotive person but Ward only needed to look at the slightly hard look behind his eyes and the tenseness in his shoulders to know he was well aware of the danger.

In a way Caiden had already been playing this suicide mission long before GCPD thought to hire him.

With a long suffering sigh Ward leant back against the metal table and regarded his brother and sister with tired eyes. He gave in.

“We do this - we do it together. Agreed?”

Both brother and sister snapped their heads up to look at Ward. He fixed them both with a hard stare, they had better take him seriously when he placed down these rules. 

“No theatrics, if we’re going to do this it has to be taken seriously. We look out for one another first and foremost. The city comes second to this family. We will work together on this, I won’t have GCPD use our lives as a stepping stone – you understand me? If you need to get out, you tell me immediately. Do you understand me?” 

Clio was quick to pounce on him, very nearly clearing the table between them just to wrap him up in a hug. Ward tensed for a second but gradually returned the embrace. He was still learning how to cope with physical touches, but Clio was nothing if not a hugger.

Beyond his sister’s shoulders, Ward could see Caiden watching them. Stoic face threatening to soften into a smile, they had him now.

“Of course. We understand perfectly, Ward.” Caiden agreed with less dramatics than Clio. His words as good a confirmation as her hug. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Clio sang happily, spinning away from Ward with a massive grin on her face. He almost smiled back in answer to her glee, only the thought of the danger this represented stopped him from doing so. 

Only she could look so gleeful about working for a psychopath. Worse than that, _lying_ to a psychopath.  
Her boredom must have scrambled what was left of her brains.

“So, now that we’re agreed.” Caiden mused, looking up at his brother and sister with that faintly sinister look. The groups on that little piece of paper, flashing up as he held it firm between his fingers. About as appealing and damning as a suicide note. 

“Who are we going to die for?”


	2. The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deal is struck and soon there'll be some criminals.

It was raining for Ward’s first day on the job. 

Not that he was surprised, not with the perpetual storm clouds that hung over Gotham like a bad smell. The rain was heavy enough that it began to leak into Ward’s apartment. Resulting in the young man pulling out every pot and pan he’d ever owned in an attempt to collect all the different leaky spots. 

The wooden floor of his apartment would begin to leak through to the one under him if he wasn’t careful and there was every chance the block head downstairs would come up and sort the issue out with fists before words. Ward avoided most of the people he shared a building with. The man living under him was no exception. 

Living in the cheapest part of Gotham left him with very questionable neighbors. The best he could hope for we're a few others down on their luck like him and maybe some low-key drug dealers. The worst and he was looking at bodies being dragged out in the dead of night. There was not much he could do about it without starting a body count of his own or adding his own name to the increasingly long list of slum casualties. 

Ward was no Batman. 

He couldn’t afford all the gear under the sun to help him deal with the human trash problem without getting his hands bloody or thrown in jail. He was only one guy after all. He couldn’t afford to get his ass thrown in prison, not when he was still half babysitting this whole bloody family. 

Sighing, Ward tried once again to chase off the more depressing thoughts tumbling around in his head. Naturally he was unsuccessful and all the former military man could do was try to work with them. In an effort to avoid letting his mind wander, Ward began to set about the checklist he had to complete this morning. Getting dressed and making a mental list of the things that needed to be said to Arron Cash when they met again. 

Dragging himself out of bed was an easy task. His mood was not nearly as foul as his brothers and sister when they got up in the morning. Being a grouch was a luxury he couldn’t afford in either the military of looking after his family. Not everyone was lucky enough to be blessed with riches or kind parents. 

Honestly Ward would have settled for dead parents. At least then his job would only be to protect his family from outside threats. But when they came home to the threat of a bottle or fist it made life more difficult. Despite how horrible the thought was and how it left his skin crawling uncomfortably – Ward had to admit he was a bit jealous of Bruce Wayne. 

Rich with his parents dead before he was even a teenager.

The only good thing his father had given Ward during his childhood years was his siblings and even that he’d almost got taken away. Which was why Ward had learnt quickly in life that he had to be up early.

Get the little ones dressed, fed and out the door before their father was even coherent enough to drag his hungover ass off the lounge. He knew that he had to keep them presentable as well as the house, if social workers ever came to visit he had to present them with something livable – not that it mattered much when in Gotham.

Their father might have been a piece of shit, but it was under his roof that they could all live and Ward had been afraid that if his father’s less than favorable disposition was found out – he’d lose the only thing worth a damn in his life. 

So no, Ward was not a bad morning person. He’d long since forced himself out of such a habit. 

But now it was just him getting ready in front of a dusty old mirror. No drills to rush to or kids to hurry out the door. Just him and his many alarms to keep him on time. This particular appointment might mark the beginning of the end for him as well.

“You must be fucking crazy.” Ward told his reflection, hands pausing on his jacket.

Perhaps it was too formal for what was to come but Ward was going to have to put as much truth into his lie as possible and Ward _liked_ nice clothes. He was going to be a thug but he’d be damned if he wasn’t one of the best dressed thugs around this shit hole. 

“Unless they put you in some themed costume.” He added with a dry smirk.

They were crazy after all. It was the only explanation he could come up with as to why they thought matching outfits wasn’t a dead give away when it came to their gangs. Wearing a clown mask might not technically be illegal but you better believe it would draw attention. Especially in Gotham.

Dressing up as a clown was just a way to get the bat around without a phone. 

Hesitating Ward continued to stare at himself in the dirty old mirror. The spider cracks forming in the corner managed to make it down to his face, breaking up the image. Despite his increasingly piss poor mood, Ward had it in him to find it faintly amusing. There was his broken face being reflected in a broken mirror. As far as scars went, the mirror seemed worse for wear. Ward only had the two breaks after all.

It didn’t matter how dirty or decrepit the mirror was, Ward could still see the ghost of his former image in it. Frustrated with more than just his newest suicidal idea, Ward purposefully turned away from his reflection. The poor thing wouldn’t take another strike from his fist. He wasn’t in any position to be buying new mirrors. 

Briefly Ward’s fingers hesitated on his chest, old scars throbbing as a reminder. He had to be careful, more careful than one usually needed to be in Gotham. It was already hard enough to get by in this place.

Part of him wanted to march right back into GCPD and demand they scrap the deal. To retain what little sanity he still had in him and put this foolish thought aside. However he knew damn well that if he did both Clio and Caiden would still go ahead with this plan. 

They were in this together after all.

“Idiots would get themselves killed without me.” 

Actually they’d probably still end up getting killed in this game. It was disturbing that no one was concerned enough by that to call it off. They were jaded when it came to death. Living in Gotham could do that to a person. Besides if this was going to be a train wreck he might as well be there to try and drag the pair of them out of the rubble when it was all over.

Glancing at his watch Ward had to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be early again. He’d gotten prepared too quickly, too soon. It was a habit he’d have to train himself out of during this little endeavor.

Somehow being a minute early could be just as detrimental to one’s health as being a minute late with these people. With time left to kill Ward decided to read over the letter Archer had sent him. Kid was twenty years old in the twenty first century and he still liked to write letters to the rest of them. 

He had a phone, hell he even texted Ward frequently but he’d never been willing to let go of the pen. He wrote like his life depended on it. But he kept whatever it was he wrote about the most close to his chest. Could be short stories, could be personal thoughts or study notes. Hell as far as the rest of them knew it could be a world domination plan or the breast sizes of the girls he’d met. They’d never know unless they snuck a look. 

No one would dare. 

Dropping himself down into the only chair in his apartment that was neither wet from the leaks nor in the process of breaking but not yet thrown out, Ward read over the letter for the fifth time. Archer was their little ray of sunshine in an otherwise horrible city. 

His every word was overflowing with excitement. His studies, the people he met, a girl he admired, even his blunders all lit up with his voice behind them. 

It helped. It helped a lot. 

Ward was able to lose himself in reading what Archer had left him. Such simple pleasures. He’d write back of course, keep it short and simple to let his brother ramble. Just enough to convince him that everything was fine. 

Naturally he’d say nothing about this new arrangement.

He’d just finished reading the letter, chuckling to himself as he glossed over Archer’s inquiry about his love life again, when his fourth alarm went off. The fourth was still set about five minutes before he had to leave but Ward took it as his final warning and pulled on his heavy over coat to venture out into the Gotham rain. 

Of course he didn’t have the car anymore. Between the three of them they’d only been able to afford one and recently it had been given primarily to Caiden who was the only one holding a real job and needed it the most. Not to mention Clio had been practically begging them to let her take it apart and use it for some of her new toys.

They’d never get it back should they allow her access.

Still Ward bemoaned the lack of a car to drive. Missed the steering wheel under his fingers. The satisfaction of being able to dictate such a massive force with so little effort. It was a comfort to drive and more to the point it would get him out of this blasted weather. 

Briefly Ward’s eyes lingered on his gloved hands. Reminising how it would feel to have that level of control again, it was such a simple pleasure. One of many he’s have to forgo for a while. 

The streets were much the same as always. Anyone who had the money had an umbrella and everyone else just walked at their own pace. You didn’t live in Gotham if a bit of rain deterred you. Ward for the time being was caught in the weather. He had practically nothing of worth on him of course, no paper he was worried about getting wet or excessive electronics. 

In fact apart for his own clothes and an old flip phone nestled comfortably away in his jacket, the only thing Ward had to worry about was catching his death in this weather. He wouldn’t be able to pull this sort of nonsense when winter rolled in or he would freeze to death. But for now he was safe to simply tolerate the pattering rain with mild annoyance. 

Wisely no one stopped moving in Gotham. Only groups had the safety of numbers to linger and even then it was a risk that only thugs and particularly confident teens usually took. Being neither of those Ward kept his wits about him and his feet moving. Well, after today maybe he would be a thug.

The thought made him long for another cigarette.

Ward very nearly collided with someone coming the other way. It was shocking in a way and he only managed to avoid them because he’d been looking. He almost stopped to watch them pass, stunned by the other person’s lack of awareness. It was a common mistake tourists made, to keep their head down and hurry along. Ward watched the stranger bustle on past and felt the need to warn them rise up in him. He quickly snuffed it out.

He could have tried to stop them, tell them that it was dangerous to act that way. Sure you avoided making eye contact with someone that might take offense and try cutting your eyes out, but it limited vision. They couldn’t build up the picture, evidenced by their near collision with him. 

Walking around like that painted a target on their back. It singled them out to the Gotham natives that this person didn’t know how to handle themselves. Ward knew there’d be plenty of muggers more than happy to take advantage of the situation and leave the tourist with lasting scars to teach them.

Ward realized he’d stopped walking to observe the other person. He knew he should get going away, the need to never be late tugging on his nerves but…well the stranger was just a kid. A young girl on closer inspection and Ward had to bite back a sigh. 

A glance at his watch and Ward made his decision. He still had ten minutes left before he was even close to being on time. Ward could spare a moment to at least try and help this person avoid trouble.

“Hey.” Ward called, turning to take a few steps after the kid. “You alright?” 

The girl startled. Rightfully so, as she no doubt expected the only people to talk to her in Gotham would have ill intentions. Ward tried to look friendly when she timidly looked back at him from under her umbrella. 

“Miss?” He tried again, the girl was trembling and Ward felt a surge of protective instinct. The girl was tiny, probably only in her early teen years – maybe not even in high school yet. She shouldn’t have been wandering around Gotham especially when she was so clearly out of her depth.

“I…” Her voice was trembling almost more than the rest of her and Ward saw her fingers tighten on the umbrella handle to the point they were turning white. He hadn’t expected her to be so clearly afraid when he spoke to her, suddenly that ten minute timeframe did not seem wide enough. 

“I think I’m lost…” She admitted quietly and Ward relaxed somewhat. Lost he could fix fairly easily, if she’d said someone was following her or that she’d been harassed it would have been a touch more difficult.

“That’s alright, miss.” Ward kept his tone gentle as he approached her. She flinched and immediately his feet stopped moving him towards her. He knew better than to advance on her when she recoiled. Of course she didn’t trust his intentions – clever girl.

“Where are you trying to get to?” He asked, the words seemed to help calm her nerves somewhat. “I can get you there.” He offered but then thought better of it. He didn’t have the time to take her too far and even if he had, those words no doubt set of red flags in her head. Who was to say he wasn’t just trying to lure her away to some dark alleyway and mug her, or worse.

“I can tell you the way at least. I know Gotham pretty well.” The amendment to his earlier offer did the trick and the girl’s shoulders dropped slightly in relief. He still kept a distance.

“Gotham…?” There was a slight pause but then the girl straightened up a touch and peered up at him from under her umbrella. “I am… _very_ lost.”

Now it was Ward’s turn to hesitate. Everyone in Gotham knew that appearances were deceiving. A timid young girl might look like someone in need of assistance but it wouldn't be the first time Harley Quinn or Poison ivy played on appearances. Ward’s distance was now a safety precaution for the pair of them.

But…she was just a child. 

Ward had to bite down a sigh of frustration directed at himself. A child could be just as dangerous as any adult in Gotham but he couldn’t in all good consciences leave her out here. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” Ward began inwardly cringing at the term of endearment. It just slipped out, a left over habit from being the oldest of four children it seemed. “Where do you live? Where are you parents?” 

At this the girl seemed to remember something important and straightened up before approaching Ward at an alarming speed. He almost stumbled back he was so stunned by the sudden gear shift.

“No, no!” She spoke with an urgency that he’d not expected from a lost girl. “I need to get to Arkham Asylum!” There was nothing in Gotham that could chill the blood so quickly as those words. Not that she seemed to mind, continuing on quickly she looked up, giving him a proper view of her face. 

Ward blanched when he saw the bruise on her cheek. Ugly and purple, it had swollen enough that it kept her right eye partially shut. Someone had hit this girl and Ward’s previously faint feelings of protectiveness blew way out of proportion. He’d seen marks like that on his family when they were children, before their father was out of the picture. Not only was she far younger than he initially thought but she was also hurt, of course he had to look out of her. 

Looking at her bruised face, Ward was struck with the memory of looking at his own face as a child. She looked so much like he had before he was free and in his right skin. So much so that it hurt to look at her.

“My big sister works there and I need to see her right away and--”

“Sweetheart.” Ward broke in, still trying to keep a gentle tone with her. He was concerned that if he was too harsh she’d think he was also going to strike her. “Arkham is a long way from here.” Thank heavens for small favors. “You wouldn’t want to go there even if it wasn’t. Your sister wouldn’t want you there either, I promise. Now please, tell me your name? I’ll get you back home.”

He was going to be late it seemed.

“Viola Adams. Just Vi.” The girl was clearly disappointed but didn’t argue anymore. “I don’t know the way home.”

Or not.

“GCPD it is then…” His compulsion breathed a sigh of relief. 

Then he offered her his hand and she happily took it. Ward knew that despite having stuck his nose in business that did not concern him, he’d done the right thing.

The girl had been afraid and lost, but gave trust easily to someone who was kind to her. In Gotham that could get you killed easily, so Ward held her little hand in his gently and returned to his set path for the station. 

He was only two minutes behind his personal schedule when he arrived and seven earlier than his appointed time.

It was hardly a good look when he finally did walk into the station, a young girl at his side and a child’s umbrella over his head. The officers there must have taken one look at him and scoffed behind their hands, he was the guy that was going to get into one of the Gotham gangs? 

Oh how they must have snickered at him. He could practically see them taking bets on how fast he was going to wind up dead.

He’d take their mockery with head held high. It might have rubbed him the wrong way but this little girl was safe and Ward knew that was enough to justify all the jeering. Gotham was a shit hole, but that didn’t mean he was about to leave a child out on her own without a single shred of protection.

So Ward simply grit his teeth and bore with it as he took the lost girl, Vi, to the little office area of the GCPD. Cash was there of course and when he glanced up at Ward his first reaction seemed to be satisfaction but then his eyes trained on the girl by his side and surprise took its place. 

Ward straightened up under the man’s gaze. He knew it was silly of him but he did hold some animosity towards Cash. For being the barer of bad news in the form of his sibling’s idiocy. For being the face that offered him the suicide pact. He knew it wasn’t really Cash’s fault but Ward still felt that stirring of frustration in his gut. Like he wanted to blame Cash even though it was in no way the man’s fault. 

Cash gave him a puzzled look and Ward knew if given the chance he’d probably throw out a snide remark about bring you kid to work day. He didn't give him the chance.

“Miss Viola Adams needs help finding her way home.” He told Cash simply and understanding crossed the officer’s face.

A lost child was always cause to offer assistance. A lost child in _Gotham_ was cause for alarm. Cash didn't mess around after that, rounding the desk to give all his attention to the child in question. 

It was almost impressive to watch how Cash could switch his tune so quickly. With Viola it was nothing but kindness and gentle words. Ward realized he had been much the same and some of his earlier anger softened. Kindness towards a child was a simple base nature most humans possessed. All good humans possessed. 

Ward watched as the girl was lead away and was surprised when she made an effort to turn back and wave happily at him. It left him staring after her long after Cash had lead her away no doubt to find her family and a way home. Ward’s gaze dropped to Cash’s desk where he immediately found a framed picture. His family by the look of it. Of course Cash had children and Ward knew that the officer’s children would never be treated as he had been.

For all his anger towards Cash – he trusted the man with that girl. She would get home safe.

So Ward waited, eyes on his watch. Right on time and he was the only one here. Figures. He waited without surprise as the seconds ticked on by and the first of his siblings joined him.

“Counting?” Caiden asked as he slid up next to Ward. 

His notebook already out with pen in hand, jotting down what Ward could only guess would be a list of demands or observations about the room. Caiden might admonish his habits of keeping time and early arrivals, but his need to categorize everything as mathematically as was humanly possible was just as concerning.

“Thirty seconds to spare before you were a minute late.” Ward retorted, lowering his watch in favour of glancing at Caiden. “Something kept you?”

“Are you hoping I’ll say I rethought this endeavor?” The thin smile Caiden tossed him told Ward that was most definitely not the case. Ward snorted, not the least bit entertained by his brother’s mocking.

They waited together, neither bothering to ask the other where their sister was. Ward didn’t even check his watch for another five minutes and only then did he idly wonder exactly how late she’d be today. The later she was the more excited she must have been. 

“Even with the car.” Caiden remarked, breaking the silence with a small, amused huff. Ward groaned, wishing Caiden hadn't handed the keys over to Clio for this. Still they waited, both listening for the telltale signs that Clio had arrived. 

The very second she walked through the door they knew. They knew from the jingle and clank of her parts bag and the mess of curses and apologies as she stumbled in.

“Why is it always raining?” Clio screeched as she came bustling on in. An officer that had been walking the other way practically leapt away from the tiny bundle of rage. They were getting odd looks but with Clio around that was the norm. “My _hair_!” 

“Nice of you to join us.” Caiden drawled as Clio all but fell to her knees next to him. Admittedly her hair was rather a mess. To match the rest of her, Ward thought with a small smile.

Ignoring their brother’s teasing Ward glanced back to his watch. “Fifteen minutes late? That’s a stretch even for you. You would have thought that growing up in Gotham you’d be a little more prepared for the rain.”

“Easy for _you_ to say!” Clio shot back, she became quite the vicious little thing when her hair was a wreck. “You haven’t _got_ any hair.”

Ward laughed.

It was difficult not to when Clio was suddenly up in his face, jamming her finger at his head like she was cursing him for having the audacity to not have hair in the first place. “You could always shave your head.” Caiden quipped and Clio’s rage turned on him just as quickly as it had on Ward. 

“I don’t want to hear that from you. Your hair always looks the damn same! You never do anything to it and it’s always curly and perfect.” When neither of her brothers looked the least bit sympathetic, Clio threw her hands in the air and barked at both of them. “Traitors, the both of you! Can’t you least pretend to understand my womanly woes?”

At that they both laughed. Ward was almost choking on his own laughter and Caiden chuckled quietly from behind his hand. Which might as well have been raucous for him. Clio was scowling at the pair of them and looked about ready to slap them silly.

“In high spirits are we?” The laughter subsided when Cash returned, although Clio’s obvious desire to hit her brothers had not. “Good, you’ll need it for what comes next.” 

That sobered Ward up pretty quickly. 

A brief knowing glance passed between the trio, each sibling checking on the other two in order to make sure they were all still on board. There would be only silent acceptance among them. What they found in the other’s faces must have been enough because when they turned back to Cash, all three was still in agreement. 

Cash made a small noise of disbelief and shrugged before gesturing for the three to follow him. Ward didn’t make a show of looking around, let his eyes scan the building for imagined threats – a habit he’d never fully shaken. Clio was much less subtle about her gawking, her eyes positively lit up as they were taken deeper in GCPD. Not that anyone could blame her as they passed the evidence locker – only just getting a glimpse of some of the colourful weapons inside. 

“Do not touch.” Caiden instructed calmly, placing a guiding hand on Clio before she could try to do just that. Clio whined in protest but thankfully kept her hands to herself. It was as much for their safety as it was for hers. The toys they got locked up in this place were dangerous in the best hands and Clio’s hands were particularly frivolous. She was as likely to dismantle a weapon of mass destruction, as she was to create one. 

This time when the four were crammed into a room it was a considerably nicer room than the interrogation set up they’d had last time. 

Once the door opened the three of them were quick to take familiar positions. It was like a repeat of last time. Caiden took a seat at the desk set out for them and immediately set down his notebook to begin writing again. Clio, of course, began to peer around the space they’d been given. But it seemed she remembered Caiden’s instruction on keeping her hands to herself and didn’t reach out to take or touch anything.

Ward on the other hand simply lingered. Not ready to take a seat and most certainly not about to wander about like Clio.

Cash looked at each other them and then shook his head with a sigh that spoke eons about how little he wanted to be here. It was amusing to know that Cash was in disbelief just as much as Ward was. Which begged the question as to who thought this was the best idea. As to who thought _they_ were the best idea.

There was a moment of silence between the three men. A silence Clio was not included in as she continued to entertain herself. It wasn’t until Caiden shot Ward a look that he finally broke it and began.

“You know our terms.” Ward started simply. He felt no need to accept any less than what they had bargained for earlier and it seemed that Cash found them acceptable. There would be no change to the agreed terms. It was for protection as much as it was payment.

Cash eyed Ward for a moment before nodding, repeating the only words that he really wanted to hear right then. “No clowns.” 

“No clowns.” Ward confirmed with a stiff nod. Even Clio paused in her flittering to look over at them, face screwing up in distaste. 

There was not enough money in the world to convince any of them to place themselves in Joker’s employ. If they were going to die, they would do so at the end of a bullet or blade – not through one of Joker’s many atrocities. It was the least they could aim for.

It was the easiest of their agreements.

“We took your other demands into consideration.” Cash continued, looking at the three separate files in his hand. Ward recognized their names on each. It would contain the orders they had. Ward felt a swell of nostalgia, hot and sticky in his chest – entirely unpleasant. But this wasn’t the army and this particular mission would be a quiet one. 

“You’ll be paid generously, in cash of course. Any sort of bank transactions will get you found out in a heartbeat. So when you report in you’ll be paid at the same time. The frequency of these payments depends on how often you clock in. We will get that advanced payment to you today of course, to make sure you’re all still in livable homes by the end of the month. As for the matter of which gangs you’ll be placed with--”

“Oh!” Clio perked up in an instant, rushing to join them at the table. “Did I get the one I wanted? Oh pretty please?”

There was a collective grimace among the three men. Only Clio could be so excited to work for any of these nutjobs. 

“Unfortunately.” Cash began, sounding exhausted with Clio’s enthusiasm. “Poison Ivy does not run her own gang and even if she did it would be under mind control. Not to mention she is currently serving her time in Arkham.” Clio visibly deflated while Ward and Caiden let out a shared sigh. 

Clio liked Poison Ivy’s hair and somehow that seemed to be enough to convince their sister. Clio was the sort to fancy a person at a glance and badger them till the end of time. Ward wasn’t sure if Ivy’s allure effected women – not that it would matter. Clio would have happily gone to Ivy without any magic plant nonsense involved. Clio’s cravings were going to be the death of all of them one day. 

“Not to mention your particular skill set is better suited for a slightly more obscure position. Here, you first. Seeing as you’re so keen.” There was judgment in his voice. Not that Clio stopped to think about it. Happily grabbing at the offered file so she could tear into it. 

“As for you two – your requests were a little more manageable.” Cash handed the remaining files over but paused when he passed Ward his. There was a look in his eyes that Ward did not particularly like. “Although only one of you got your request.”

Caiden was the lucky one it seemed. A small satisfied smile came onto his face as he opened his file and saw that he had indeed gotten his wish. Ward felt far less charitable when he saw the symbol on his own papers.

“Aw, what?” Clio complained out loud whens he saw hers. “You guys want me to work with Riddler? Does he even _have_ a gang?”

“Work _for_ Riddler.” Cash corrected sharply and Ward saw a familiar pout cross Clio’s face. “Your work as a mechanic and a uh…” 

“Tinkerer!” Clio happily supplied, the pout slipping away to be replaced by a proud grin. What she called tinkering others might have called insanity. Ward once again had to swallow a sigh. She was one wrong device away from ending up in Arkham herself.

“Right, tinkerer.” Cash continued uncertainly. “Well it’s not a skill the appeals to too many of these people. Riddler makes an assortment of deceives. Some illegal, some legal. Additionally that creep likes to place all sorts of puzzles and traps in hard to reach places around the city – your gymnastic abilities might just fit the bill. You’re of more use to him than a regular thug. So yes, you’ll be placed with Riddler.”

Clio considered this for a moment and then quietly murmured. “I’m not sure green is really my colour…” Wisely Cash did not grace that with a response. Although Clio looked to Caiden for his verdict, only to get a small shrug.

“Ivy was mostly green.” He offered and Clio took that information very seriously. No doubt running over the change in colour scheme in her head. Ivy had been red and green, knowing Clio she was simply factoring the red out of the equation. Cash used her contemplative silence as a chance to move on.

“Caiden. You are best suited to work behind a desk. Managing numbers and money. Penguin is one of the few criminals that hides behind both legal and illicit businesses. You’ll do your best work there. Furthermore.” And Cash paused for this. “Your own record with discretion will add to your employability.”

There was a brief pause where Caiden locked eyes with Cash and then a small smirk appeared on his face. “Evidently I was not careful enough.”

“Caiden?” Clio peered down at her brother as he continued to smirk away.

Suspicion began creeping into Ward but Cash didn’t pause for too long and Caiden offered no answer. It was a question for another time but Ward wouldn’t forget. He’d hope that it was simply a throw back to childhood. To when Caiden was stupid enough to put himself in dangerous positions and nothing more.

“Ward.” Cash pulled them forward, leaving that small hiccup behind. But they’d heard it and Ward knew Clio would hold on to it just as much as he would. “Any complaints from your end?”

Down on the paper Ward stared at the coin printed on the page. In all honesty he hadn’t wanted to work for a single one of these sickos but seeing Dent’s, _Two-face’s_ , symbol on his paper brought about a surge of disgust he couldn’t quite swallow.

He’d been a good man once. Someone that believed in justice, someone that Ward might have looked up to in his early years. Now he was this. A gang leader on a slip of paper.

There was no one he wanted to work for – but Ward thought that besides Joker, Two-face was the next most despicable. If only because he could have been more.

“No, sir.” Ward answered flatly. Whatever personal feelings he had on the matter were rendered a moot point. This was a job, a mission and above all else – something that could do some good for this city.

He could be a solider for that.

“Then we start immediately. The three of you will have very different approaches to this job. Caiden, you’ll apply through legal veins and work your way up from there. I have no doubt you know your way around this type of game. However it will take some time to get your near enough to the real dealings to report back. Take your time, do not rush and do not put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

There was that smirk again. Caiden already had a plan; Ward did not need to look at the notes he was jotting down in his book to know that. Caiden perhaps had the easiest role of them all. He slid into this with a scary level of ease. 

Cash then turned to Clio with a slightly distressed expression. “Clio, you’ll have a bit of a harder time. Believe it or not Riddler does in fact have his own crew. It’s small and the names change over frequently. He has a new crew almost every time he resurfaces. The good news is that makes it easier to get in. But it will be hard to secure a position for any length of time. But due to his rapid dismissal of workers, we have a few crooks willing to spill their guts for a few months off their time. You’ll get plenty of tips from them. _Please_ take them.”

Then finally it was Ward’s turn. He met Cash’s hard gaze with his own and waited. “You’ve been a solider.” Cash told him bluntly. “Two-face runs a proper gang. They hire thugs commonly. Think of it as a job interview. All you need to do is be a low life thug. Do well, keep your head down and report back to us routinely.” 

Ward didn't think of himself as prideful. Pride would get you killed in the slums. But even he had to recoil at the title of thug. He’d wear it of course, until he no longer needed it. Until it could no longer do them any good.

“So…” Clio chewed on her lip thoughtfully before tossing out a careless. “What if they plan to blow up an orphanage or something?”

“Clio.” Caiden admonished sharply.

“What? It’s a valid question, it's something that could happen!” Clio defended herself, looking between the lot of them. “I mean, isn’t that the job? If they’re going to do something villainous to stop them?” 

“No.” Cash cut across the conversation calmly. “No heroics. None of you are Batman and besides Ward, you haven’t even had any experience in the field. It is your job to report to us and nothing more. If they say jump you do it. Don't even ask how high, might get you shot. Everything they say you do.” 

“And if they ask us to kill someone?” Clio asked, voice dropping down low. Nearly a growl and both Caiden and Ward flinched. Their sister so rarely spoke slowly or with such a cold, calm tone. It was only the rare instance where she found a line and it seemed this might be one. “What then, officer?”

“If they put the gun in your hands, and they tell you to fire.” Cash told them slowly, every word sinking in. “You do it.”

“You’re hardly asking us to play dress up.” Caiden murmured, tone mirroring twin sister’s. “You’re asking us to _be_ criminals. The only difference being who our boss really is.”

“We’re supposed to do good for this city!” Ward snarled. Far less composed than his brother and sister. “You want us to do good but then go ahead and say we should kill innocents if these monsters say so?”

“It is your job to protect as many people as possible.” Cash didn’t bend, not even under all three of the Daun children’s scrutiny. None of them could tell what he thought of this; he kept his personal opinion well out of the conversation. “In order to do that you must be prepared to do anything. To protect the city.”

For a while nobody spoke and Cash eventually sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He then parted with at least a part of his true feelings on the subject. “To survive a job like this…you have to know where you stand. Where the lines must be drawn. If you cannot do it, you owe it to the mission to back out now. But know this, if it’s not your hand on the gun, it’ll be someone else’s and we won’t have the information you could provide.”

“A lesser evil…” Caiden muttered, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling just as tired as Cash seemed to be. Clio gently raked her fingers through Caiden’s hair, a small comforting gesture Clio used for her brothers. Which might have been why she begrudged Ward’s lack of hair. Not that it stopped her from going through the motions. 

“If it will protect people…” Clio added gently, a decision in her tone. “I suppose I could manage that much. 

Ward looked at his brother and sister, horror gripping his heart like a vice.

They weren’t saying it wouldn’t kill them to do it. They were both saying that they were willing to sacrifice their own virtue if it could help the city. To give a life was easy, it would be a bullet and then nothing. They could die saying their hands were clean and they were good people – but this job required they give up even that. 

Ward truly did not think of himself as prideful. But he hesitated with this.

“You are under no obligation to do this.” Cash told them all seriously. “You may back out right now, but once you’re in it becomes harder to get free.” 

Memories rushed through Ward’s mind. The horrors these people committed. Oh sure, sometimes it was just a bank they were robbing. But then there were the bad days. The times when hundreds of people were on the line because a crazy was willing to walk across all the bodies in the world for whatever they wanted. Things could be replaced, lives could not.

Ward remembered the horror and destruction they could cause. The people they hurt and the scars they left on the city. If his brother and sister were willing to give up their own morality to try and prevent that same heartache from occurring – Ward could do the same. He was the oldest, he couldn’t shy away from the difficult decisions. If they had to die for what was right then so be it, if they had to kill someone to protect another – fine. They could throw away their morality for this. 

They needed him to be strong, and so Ward turned to look at Cash and without so much as blinking he nodded.

“In my brother’s words – who are we going to die for?” 

The deal was struck and no one smiled. But it was in motion now and Ward would be damned if he didn’t come out the other side having done everything humanly possible to succeed with them alive. Even in Gotham people could be good and fight for the right causes.

They were not all Batman. They couldn’t all shy away from the dirty work – and if a slum family couldn’t get their hands dirty then what hope was there for anyone else?

 

…  
…

 

“So?”

Cash was barely even through the door when Gordon spoke. The commissioner was behind his desk, looking over the papers again. No doubt just to set his own mind at ease. Although Cash couldn’t think of many good things that paper would be filled with. 

But on the front there was the bat's symbol and for now that was good enough.

“How did it go?” Gordon asked, setting down his coffee mug as he waited for the verdict.

“They’re already getting geared up.” Cash reported and Gordon nodded sagely. It was one of those times where a victory felt almost like a loss. After all no one was under any illusions as to what was being asked of these kids. Cash had to remind himself that the oldest of them was in his thirties but even so, it felt like sending children to their deaths. 

Caiden might have been the most likely to survive. With Clio’s unpredictable nature and Ward’s history things got a little murky. 

“A dishonorably discharged man, a tinkerer with a knack for explosions and a drug dealer…” Cash shook his head, still unable to wrap his head around the whole thing. “And we’re sending them in hoping for the best.”

“Hope has nothing to do with it.” Gordon told him sternly. “We’re not blinding sending civilians in to spy on some of the most dangerous people in Gotham.”

“You have faith in this. You actually do.” Cash could hardly believe it even as he said it. But Gordon only nodded, taking a slip of his coffee.

“You have to.” He answered simply. “Otherwise this city will get to you. So yeah, I have faith in this.”

Cash rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. The three had recoiled at the idea they’d have to kill people, which was a good thing of course, but it still put them in a difficult position. There was danger everywhere with this.

“Why’d you put the oldest with Two-face’s crew, Gordon?”

It was no secret that Ward’s cover story would be more truth than fiction. He was disgruntled, he was unhappy with the way things were and he was driven by a firm moral compass. Which to Cash sounded a bit too familiar and to Gordon it was almost like a blast from the past.

“You know why.” Gordon told him wearily. “They’re very similar.” 

“Which is why I worry.” 

Cash knew Ward wasn’t pleased with any of this. He could see it in the hard way he looked at everyone, at himself in particular. Putting him with Two-face seemed dangerous. Either the criminal would take offense to Ward’s existence should they ever meet in person or Ward might pick up an idea or two from the other. 

Either way it ended with someone dead and Cash didn’t want to put his money on Ward coming out of that coin toss alive. 

“Harvey Dent.” Gordon began quietly. “Was one of the best men in Gotham.” 

“Was. He _was_ , one of the best. He went bad.” Cash snapped, frustrated with Gordon’s lack of concern. “Who’s to say this won’t be a repeat of that disaster?”

Gordon didn’t answer and Cash had to wonder if this was something of a test. For himself, for Ward, for the people of Gotham. To see if there was another way Dent could have ended up.

It was just as Gordon had said – faith. It was important to have something to believe in, when the city was overflowing this things to kill hope. 

Sighing, Cash relented. Easing back onto his feet the officer tried to fight off that headache he knew was going to accompany this whole ordeal.

“I suppose Batman will have to be briefed about this as well? God forbid he ends up putting our people in hospital because he doesn't know whose side they’re on.”

Gordon chuckled and Cash wondered if he’d already had a visit from their resident caped crusader. The city police had gradually warmed to the man. At least to the point where they no longer hunted him or pulled their guns on him. It was a much better set up and now that their attentions were focused on the real criminals things got done much faster.

Working with the bat provided more results than fighting him. Although vigilantism still left a foul taste in a select few of the force’s mouths. It was in the minority now days. 

“There’s every chance they won’t even manage to get in.” Cash mused, looking towards the door again. He knew the trio would be getting pulled up to speed and left to read over their own briefings. It would be at least a month before they were in deep enough to give anything of worth. This was going to be an extremely long mission. These sorts of things could go one for years and Cash dearly hoped the three would be able to keep it up for that long. 

And that he didn’t exhaust his patience with them before that time was up.


	3. Getting The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clio is an idiot. A real honest to god idiot and I love it.

Green was definitely her colour.

Clio admired her handiwork in the mirror for quite some time. Still trying to figure out just how she wanted to dress for this new game. No doubt soon they’d get impatient and demand she stop changing her mind, but Clio had to drag some sort of enjoyment out of this briefing business.

They’d been chatting things over for at least an hour now. Ward was being his usual self – stiff as all buggery with plenty of questions and instructions as to how they would go about this new mission of theirs.

Mission. Ha, that word made the whole thing that much less entertaining. Even if she pretended they were going to be in one of those buddy cop movies it still didn’t boost her enthusiasm. It didn’t help that they’d gunned down all her ideas on proper attire. So she’d seen one too many Bond movies and thought the life of a double agent would be a little more glamorous – sue her. 

Caiden was not much better. For him it was just any other day in the office. He would go to an interview, wear a tie and say everything they wanted to hear. He’d be back behind a desk with his precious number charts before the week was up. Meanwhile Ward was treating the whole thing as boringly as humanly possible. With all his planning and seriousness draining the fun out of the adventure.

Her mood had improved considerably when they’d allowed her a pick of clothes and oddities they thought might be useful. Clio didn’t question why so much of it was green or where they’d managed to find this many question mark shaped objected. She was thrilled to be given her pick of toys, none would be as entertaining as the ones stashed away back at her shed but she could make do with a few of these.

She could still hear Ward and Caiden talking in the other room. They’d have their own toys no doubt. Ward would be the luckiest in that department. He was expected to be carrying firearms with him after all. Caiden would have to go in with nothing more than his favourite pen and wits. Clio got an assortment of gadgets.

Apparently her first challenge was _finding_ Riddler.

“Oh sure, Caiden gets a regular interview and Ward gets to use a snitch – but I gotta _find_ my guy.” Clio groused while holding up a particularly lime coloured jumper. She made a face at it. Okay, green might have been her colour but she wasn’t going to walk around as a tiny black leprechaun.

Although if she wore enough green that she glowed bright enough, it might just save her the trouble of looking for the man, 

Begrudgingly Clio put the jumper back down, sizing up her options. She knew that if she went too far with this colour play it was going to work against her. The boys might think it was as easy as slapping on a green question mark but Clio knew better. She was endearing herself – not wanting to come on too strong. There was a reason her brothers never managed to get a date and why she got plenty of firsts and never a second. It was about snaring the eye – keeping the attention she would have to make up on the fly this time, she’d never tried to hold it for long.

After all the time she spent considering her options Clio shrugged off all the green she’d placed on her person and instead slipped back into her own clothes. None of which were actually green.

The rest of her gear was much less for viewing purposes. They’d given her a taser and a bottle of pepper spray. But really what girl in Gotham didn’t have both those things from the moment she first toddled off to school? Besides, Clio had her own toys that would do far better than either of those things – not that she told the GCPD that. Better she keep some toys to herself.

But for the most part weapons were a no go. If she was caught carrying around too much protection it might just tip off her potential employer who was known to be just a touch paranoid. A trait he shared with a lot of the Gotham monsters. Although Clio would argue that everyone in Gotham had a gun somewhere on their person at all times. Most purses now days had a specific pocket designated to just that. She might not think it made much sense and it might drive Ward absolutely insane with anger knowing any idiot could have a gun – but she was not about to begrudge the extra protection when they had clowns running amuck. That and if Caiden even thought for a second she was disrespecting the perfect mechanics of his beloved firearms – he might actually be insulted enough feel an emotion. 

Besides the small levels of protection they’d offered, she’d also been given a radio, which at first had seemed odd to her. Apparently Riddler was known for messing around with radio signals and on occasion hosting his own. She’d been encouraged to use that to find him; maybe she’d get lucky. Of course Clio thought she could do a little better than the tacky radio they’d given her. Another toy to keep close to her chest.

“Clio?” 

That was Ward at the door, rapping against it with the back of his knuckles in a quick succession of taps. Ward had many nervous ticks, this was just another. If he hadn’t been tapping away at the door he’d no doubt be drumming against a desk, wall or even his own leg if there was absolutely nothing else on hand. It was a habit he’d have to kick quickly if he hoped to not get a bullet between the eyes because he annoyed the wrong person with his tapping.

He’d be cross no doubt when he saw she’d barely changed after all the time spent in the office space provided for her privacy. Of course Clio couldn’t explain to Ward with all the detail that was needed to properly appreciate the process she’d gone through. 

Clothes might make the man but they were a woman’s first choice of armor, a perfect outward disguise of character. She could dictate exactly how she was perceived. It was no easy task to make a perfect image and Clio knew exactly what she wanted Riddler to see when he saw her. Her brothers would never believe that she knew what subtly was, nor would they understand the art of looking like nothing.

 

She might have hated being unseen. Without eyes on her person, Clio felt incredibly bored but she knew how to present herself as nothing when need be. It had been her greatest ally growing up in a Gotham school and she had to know how to disappear into her own space to in order to make herself the center of attention the rest of the time. Couldn’t have one extreme without the other.

In the mirror Clio’s own smirk reflected back at her.

“Just a second, hon. I’m getting my weapons.” Clio called back through the door and she could all but perfectly imagine Ward’s face crumbling into a look of justified shock. There was disbelief and protest in the way her brother repeated that final word and Clio giggled in response. “Yes, brother,” With her armor taken care of Clio glanced the mirror once more and slipped on a sunny smile. “Weapons.”

When she opened the door, Ward did look at her just as she’d guessed he would. First confusion crossed his face then gradually understanding with just a touch of frustration. Clio only smiled brighter as her brother’s shoulders heaved with a silent expression of exasperation. He didn’t say anything of course, leaving that to the officers still waiting on her to waste their time with, instead Ward just made a small gesture for her to go ahead of him. 

“You have a plan?” Ward asked, falling into step behind his younger sister.

Clio had a bounce in her step and a smile on her face that would have endeared her tiny frame to the uninformed – Ward knew better. He’d practically raised this girl, watched her go through all the motions of youth. Some of which she never properly outgrew. There were days spent comforting her after a mean word went too far or a boy got too grabby. The tears always hurt, leaving Ward at a loss for how to protect his baby sister. He worried that feeling would return with a vengeance should this mission go pear shaped. 

The first time Clio came home with a smile instead of tears – Ward should have known better than to be relieved. In Gotham a smile was often more alarming than any other expression. A sunny disposition usually belonged almost exclusively to clowns and mad men.

But Ward couldn't begrudge her when she smiled. Because the bruises did nothing to dim it, the tears were gone and Ward didn’t think he’d ever seen Clio cry in earnest after that first day.

And when the cops came to their door asking after her Ward had opened his mouth and lies spilled out.

Of course, he beat up the bullies that pulled his sister’s hair. Yes, he broke out that boy’s front tooth but in fairness he was bigger than Ward was. Yes, he shoved the child down those stairs, even though he had never stepped foot in that building before. Yes, he got his hands on that superglue. No, officer, he didn’t know it would burn the boy that badly when it reached his scalp.

Don’t worry officer, it will never happen again.

When the door shut, Clio had been there – staring at him in silence from the foot of the stairs. Ward had stared back at her wide eyes, unable to gauge what his sister thought of his lies. He told her that he would never let anyone hurt her again and in return they’d never have to deal with bullying themselves. Then he’d waited, waited for her verdict whatever it might be in her eleven year old mind. She’d not been known to quite reacted in ways he thought to be normal. She might be happy that she’d avoided blame but would she be angry that he stole her spotlight?

Then his sister had opened her mouth and said something that he wasn’t going to be able to forget.

“Never again?”

Ward had realized that day, staring at his baby sister as they stood opposite one another in the hall that there was at least one thing that Clio loved more than the spotlight. He never quite found the right word for what that thing was but they’d titled it as ‘fun’ over the years.

The never again remained with one slight amendment - never again would they allow Clio to succumb to boredom.

Still striding ahead with a bounce behind each step, Clio’s face had a smile on it again and Ward wondered when he’d become jaded enough to allow his sister such freedom in her antics. But all lunacy aside – she was smiling. That could be enough for him to be happy. He just quietly lamented her recklessness.

“A plan?” Clio laughed, skipping on the ball of her foot to turn back and face her brother. Still taking hasty steps backwards as she grinned up at him. “You know I never.”

“Liar.” He retorted easily and smiled in answer to Clio’s stretching smirk. The games extended to their words as much as it did anything else in life. Anything for entertainment.

“Just you watch me, Ward.” Clio told him firmly – never one to doubt herself outloud. “I’ll have bagged me a green nerd before the week is out.” 

With her back to him once again Ward allowed himself a small eye roll. He was bemused by her confidence but did not doubt Clio anymore than she did herself. Although he cringed at her childish way of speaking about the situation. His sister had never had an eye for men and even those she did give her attention never lasted long. Either too clever to get caught up in her or she eventually grew bored and dropped them. Their sister’s affections were fleeting and shallow. At the end of the day that left Ward thankfully without the job of chasing off unsavory suitors. He’d been robed of the most basic big brother trope and Ward was almost bitter over it. He wouldn’t have minded pulling the protective big brother card at least once if she brought a man home.

“Stay alive.” Ward told her sternly and for just a second Clio’s steps faltered before slowing to a stop. Ward in turn slowed to a stop behind her. He eyed the ridged set of her shoulders. Clio would throw herself into danger’s way without hesitation – but she was afraid of dying just like anyone else. “You go and die on me and I will get my ass landed in jail for murder of the Riddler.”

For a while Clio didn’t answer and Ward wondered for the hundredth time what happened in her head.

It felt pointless to dwell on the throw away comment. After all if it were that easy to off the puzzle obsessed nutjob, someone else would have done it years ago. There were plenty people on both sides of the law that would have shot him in the mouth just to put an end to his relentless prattling. Ward had just said what any other brother would, something completely insane and impossible. Something he didn’t have a hope in the world of doing but said all the same because that was his little sister he was worrying about. Yet Clio took it the same way she did everything else that came out of his mouth. As if he spoke nothing but truth. 

The hallway was void of other people, leaving the brother and sister to stand in complete silence as they contemplated the other’s sanity. Besides the occasional hum of voices beyond closed doors or the whirl of a fan – there was nothing else to focus on. Which was why when Clio did finally break the quiet, Ward heard it as loudly as if she’d shouted the words.

“That a promise?”

Clio didn’t face him and her shoulders hadn’t lost any of the tension bunched up in her muscles. Unconsciously Ward drummed his fingers against his thigh.

What was the right answer to a question like that?

A joke he’d said a little too seriously was suddenly being scrutinized. Caiden and Clio might really have been insane, well and truly insane. Ward had thought as much when they wanted to take this job, but being insane did not make them stupid. Even Clio’s frivolous, airheaded self had a focus sharp enough to cut an unsuspecting fool. She’d rip Ward apart if he so much as took a single misstep.

His siblings looked for weakness in others. Ward had no room to doubt himself. With that in mind Ward stepped forward and leaned down so he was closer to his sister’s level. Clio’s head shifted a bit as if she wanted to look at him but still refused to face his eyes until an answer was given. 

“One bullet.” He told her simply. “Through his heart.” 

Ward’s fingers stopped tapping against his leg.

“Hm.” Clio hummed quietly into the still air and let her body tip forward, teetering on the balls of her heels, a smile spreading across her face as she took in his words and sized up his conviction. Then finally she angled her head up towards him. “You had better keep your gun close, brother.” 

“And you had better not die.” Ward warned her in return, fingers twitching for a cigarette he didn’t dare light in front of her. “I might actually miss you if you do.” 

“Oh-ho, don’t you worry, Ward. I’ll just come back and haunt you.” Ward just started to look a little green in the face when Clio threw her hands in the air with an excited exclamation of. “Imagine it, we’ll spend the rest of your life together! We’ll stay up all night swapping stories and I can be with you on dates – I could _get_ you a date if you let me. Hey! Maybe I could possess you, that’d be great. I’ll just be with you _all_ the time!

“I take it all back.” 

Clio laughed all the way to the GCPD foyer.

 

…  
…

 

Turns out that finding people was _not_ Clio’s forte.

As expected the police had all but vanished from the equation the moment she exited GCPD. If she wanted to get this done it’d be on her own, which rather took the joy out of leading the double life. If she couldn’t sometimes call up her base and exchange code names – then what was the point of all this sneaking around?

Ward had explained it to her countless times that limited contact with the police force was for her own safety. They weren’t playing with regular criminals. So much as a look that lingered too long, or right answer given too slowly could result in death. Which meant returning to the station or calling up the other officers was off limits. 

Even her brothers had seemingly dropped off the map. Clio sat alone in her shed, disgruntled and pouting at her illuminated phone. Neither Caiden nor Ward had checked in that week. Not that she should have expected anything else. Caiden was the type to read messages and do nothing. That little ‘seen’ message was more infuriating than if he’d never looked at them to begin with. Ward on the other hand was the worst texter – he used whole sentences and spoke like he was composing and email. Sometimes he even signed it, whenever he forgot that Clio would crucify him for it. Clio didn’t need him to adopt the swag yolo mentality but an emoticon here and there wouldn’t kill him would it?

Left feeling sorry for herself and in absolutely no mood to actually take responsibility for that self pity, Clio let herself fiddle around the shed. She was running low on most everything and even though the money she and her brothers had been given up front for this endeavor covered her renting this place – she’d already squandered the rest. She was not a girl who liked to have money, she rather enjoyed what money could get her but the joy of having it was something she left purely to Caiden. So long as she had a new toy in her hands or a new plan laid out in front of her with parts readily available – Clio didn’t care if she hadn’t so much as a dime. Food and self care was an afterthought. An after thought left to her brothers most of the time, she’d drive them into an early grave at this rate. Ward might have gotten grey hairs already if he had any hair to speak of.

But her tools were looking remarkably rusty and varying in degrees of broken. She might not have cared for them as she should have. Shame on her.

Now when Clio got particularly glum the usual go to was a simple matter of knocking up a new pet project. However with the rent covered and her favourite tools beginning to dull as much as her mood – that was out the window. Clio wanted to start toying with robotics again, a tricky business after having very nearly gotten Ward squished to the size of a dinner plate during her first attempt. She might have forgotten to include facial recognition into the programs. If she was to try had hand at robots again, she’d have to upgrade everything. Her tools, her shed, her make up – a full overhaul. To do that she needed two things. Firstly was money, which she couldn't hope to come into until she found her man in green, and second she needed a little bit of stimulation.

What did a young girl in Gotham do when stimulation was in order? Well that was simple in Clio’s case – she went to Pandora’s Box.

The club was all different levels of seedy. Clio knew that, she’d gone looking for it in her teen years for exactly that reason. Having heard whispers of the dungeon like set up where dominatrixes were in high demand. Fancied herself something of an enthusiast at the time. Thought it would be as simple as walking through the front door and offering up some money.

Clio had almost gotten herself killed that first night. Too many words, too quickly without a filter did tend to land her in hot water more than once. She’d been one of the lucky ones – with a pretty face she was able to catch the eye of at least one worker willing to let her keep her front teeth. 

That first night she’d been brave enough, _stupid_ enough, to venture inside the club – not even old enough to drink mind you – Nina had been the one to pull her ass out of the fire. Clio had been in awe of the older woman, dressed up in clothes that made little Clio blush – Nina had flayed her with sharp words. Pinpointing her stupidity, her naivety and how dead she could have been had Nina not known how to charm her way around an angry man. 

Unwilling to return home Clio bargained for her right to stay. She just wanted to watch the girls work, wanted to see what it was like. She pleaded without a shred of dignity in her and Nina eventually relented once offered all the money in Clio’s tiny pocket and the threat of tears presented itself.

So there Clio had sat for hours. Watching wide eyed and in awe as the club went about its business. She’d never seen so much leather, pulled so tight and covering so little in all her life. The crack of a whip caused her to jump on occasion and once or twice she heard sobbing. Concern never entered her head however. Perhaps it was her stupidity blinding her to the danger and vulgarity of the club, but Clio felt rather comfortable.

No one touched her. Not without express permission.

That was the rule and Nina had made it inescapably clear that no one was to touch the tiny dark skinned girl sitting by herself in the corner. She was an observer and nothing more. Clio had never felt safer in her entire life than she had while sitting in that barstool, watching a middle aged man voluntarily soil himself under a woman’s shiny red heel. Because no one would do anything she didn’t want, no one would dare touch without asking and that meant the world to her.

And when Nina ended her shift and sat down next to her, a few questions for the curious little brat she’d let in, Clio had stated babbling. Excitedly asked questions of her own about the club, about Nina’s work – about everything in the place. Nina made her feel safe. This club made her feel safe. Clio wanted nothing more than to know everything she could about the club.

It took plenty of begging to convince the older woman to allow her to come back and every time Clio showed up on their doorstep, requesting Nina let her in – it took a few more notes out of her wallet. But it had been worth her pride and money. Every time Clio arrived at the club there returned that feeling of security and a surge of inspiration she hadn’t had before entering. Her best gadgets spawned from these sessions, from observing a paddle come down on a man’s backside or the first sign of tears and threat of a safe word being uttered. 

She had even thought of applying for a job but Nina had informed her that she was too mouthy, didn’t know how to act. She’d been working on that for five years after, perfecting what Nina had told her was a woman’s greatest weapon. Clio knew she could make it here now – but she never applied. Working here might make it lose its charm and then she’d be left without a special place to gather her inspiration from.

Clio hadn’t seen Nina in a long time. She’d gone off somewhere a few years back and Clio was not ashamed to admit she missed the older woman.

That night when Clio skipped her way through the backstreets of Gotham, heading for the underground club with a mirthful grin – she went knowing that Nina wouldn’t be there to greet her and demand money, but the feeling of security would still be waiting. That was enough for her.

Rapping a familiar pattern against the metal door to the club, Clio practically sang the password much to the bouncer’s dismay.

“Clio.” He groused while dragging the door open for the petite girl. “I know ya face. Do ya hafta shout at me?”

“Rules are rules, Regi.” Clio retorted with a beaming smile as she slipped on inside. Pointedly ignoring how the bouncer rolled his eyes. Hopping on the ball of her foot, Clio preformed a small spin in front of Reggie.

She’d become something a pest no doubt, ending up on a first name basis with most of the staff, being known as that irritating little girl that just watched. But of course she paid upfront and didn’t cause trouble – so they tolerated her antics. Clio liked to think she’d grown on them, would have believed it too had it not been very clear that Reggie would throw her out on her ass at a second’s notice and lose no sleep over it.

“Ya big old teddy bear you.” Clio put on what she hoped was her best innocent smile. Reggie had seen it too many times to fall for it and only answered with a glare of his own. Of course she had to laugh at the expression. “Any deals I ought to know about tonight?” 

“Running low on cash are we?” It must have been more obvious than Clio realized. Doing a quick once over she realized much to her dismay that she was wearing her worn clothes still. The thought of dressing up to come to the club hadn’t crossed her mind in the sudden decision to come down at all. She looked tatty. 

Reggie snorted, trying to hide the would be laugh poorly. “You look like a sewer rat.” 

“See if that tune gets you anywhere, big guy.” Clio shot back, jamming a finger into Reggie’s, frankly too wide chest. He was a bouncer but Clio thought he would have made a better wrestler. His brains were about right for it.

“Clio.” He mused. “I could play any tune in the world and it wouldn’t get you.”

The smile he got in response to that was positively vicious. Clio’s eyes sparkled as she looked up at the hulk of a man, almost like she wouldn’t mind taking him out for a spin. Reggie might not have been the brightest spark but he was easy on the eyes and Clio knew he had a fairly good heart. Good enough to work here and not cause trouble anyways. But he still knew her well enough to not risk that spin, which of course made him more valuable then most of the other men she tried out.

“Oh, Reg. I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He was a swift hunk of man too, managed to dodge her attempt at a hug. 

“Working here, Clio.” He admonished her with a small amused smile. Yeah, she definitely liked Reggie. “Try not to make a nuisance of yourself, ay?”

“Don’t I always behave?” There looked to be some sort of rebuttal forming on Reggie’s face but Clio didn’t stop long enough to hear it. Gliding on past him and the entrance into the belly of the beast so to speak.

Pandora was the sort of place that didn’t change too much. New management was an idea that simply didn’t exist. Besides if it wasn’t broken don’t fix it. The red glow of the buildings main stage room lit up the grimy entrance way and Clio ducked her head under Vincent’s arm as he pulled open the curtain for her. Vinny wasn’t quite as chatty as Reggie but Clio tossed him a bright smile all the same as he spoke her name in greeting. Vincent was almost always shirtless which was what made him easy to identify, man had a dangerous streak and there were enough burn marks on him to signal him out even with the black mask covering up his face. Not a chatter but reliable all the same, he knew everyone that came and went regularly and most everyone that knew the man trusted him to keep out unwanted visitors. Clio narrowly avoided being placed in that category.

Clio’s pace faltered for a moment as she passed by one of the fortunate customers to be strung up that evening. She glanced the man’s face, what little she could see that wasn’t covered under his mask, and noted he looked rather happy up there. Drooling and shuddering as his dom attended to him. Must have been early in his night, his wrists weren’t’ even beginning to turn an angry red yet. Fascinated Clio almost stopped to observe but remembered herself quick enough to move on. She’d have all night to ogle those that enjoyed an audience, but first she needed to get to the bar and see who would be keeping her company for the night.

The stage was void of dancers when she first arrived and Clio found herself having come in during one of their numerous break sessions. Which meant more one on one and less wandering. She was very much alone in her wandering besides the staff. There were familiar faces scattered around – not that any of them paid her any mind. She wasn’t here to play so she wasn’t an item of interest to most. There’d be more familiar faces no doubt but many would be obscured by bags and gags – so Clio had to read their bodies much like she had Vincent’s. A telling scar or tattoo was the best way to identify friends or partners, it was important to become acquainted with more than just a face to maneuver around here.

“Squirt.” Clio’s musing were pulled to an abrupt halt as she found herself being spoken to by none other than Pandora herself. Naturally upon seeing the club owner, Clio’s smile returned with a sunny vengeance. Pandora had indulged her for all these years but Clio was under no illusions – she hung by a thin thread. If she kept herself behaved and kept paying upfront for her position in the corner, Pandora would continue to tolerate her. If not then Vinny – bless his golden heart – would toss her out on her ass. Again.

“Ma’am!” She chimed, hoping that her cheerful disposition might win her some brownie points. Judging by the faintly amused smile on Pandora’s face it didn’t but the effort was entertaining all the same. “Long time no see.” 

“Indeed. Where have you been cooped up all this time?” Pandora asked, laying her torso across the bar bench lazily as she eyed the young mechanic. She then seemed to think a little more critically on her own question and her gaze became reproachful. “Didn’t bring any new shiny toys with you, did you?” 

“No, no, Ma’am ‘course not!”

After the first time, Clio never repeated that mistake. Pandora’s club inspired her but any resulting creations were to be kept far away from the place. 

Pleased with Clio’s reassurance, Pandora returned to her usual smoldering expression. It was a look that melted little Clio the first time she met the woman and even now it managed to fill her with a slight warmth. “Here for a show then, are we?”

“You know how I like to watch.” Clio replied, not a hint of shame in her comment. Shame had a place here but never in a negative connotation. “Recently I’ve been running a little dry. On ideas and money.” She continued, slumping forward onto the bar. Her pouting garnered her no sympathy from Pandora.

“Ah, that old song.” Easing back up to her full height, Pandora cast a glance over her club. She monitored, kept people in line and safe. She was half the reason the club was as safe as it was. Clio knew that Pandora ran a tight ship and threats to club or customer were never tolerated. She’d called in the bat once or twice, which was enough to keep most troublemakers away. 

Pandora suffered through a few more minutes of Clio’s whining. Only half listening to the young woman’s grievances and caring even less than she cared to say. It was a fond sort of lack of care surely, the child was an odd one and one that seemed determined to stick around. Like a needy stray cat, so Pandora would occasionally humor the girl’s quirks the same way anyone would a particularly cute stray. The club owner only caught snippets of Clio’s never ending chatting while watching the various ongoings in the club. Seemed like a good crowd that night, not too rowdy but still lively enough to keep the club buzzing.

It was only when the flood of words shifted into a comment about man hunting that Pandora really chimed back in. Clio had her fair share of flings in the past. Pandora had watched her move from being timid and hopeless to being an absolute monster towards the other gender. She couldn’t say if she approved or not but the girl kept herself safe from emotional harm and it really wasn’t Pandora’s place to judge or baby the girl. Although admittedly the urge did rise in her once or twice in the past.

“Looking for a lover are we?” Pandora cut in before Clio could dive off on another tangent. “My, my, what happened to your last one?” 

“Firstly.” Clio huffed, one finger shooting into the air. “Rude. Secondly, he got boring and third I never said I was looking for a lover. Just a man.”

“Oh?” Pandora’s brow shot up, regarding the girl curiously. “And if you don’t intend to bed him what will you do with this man?”

“Well…” Clio shifted uneasily which only tugged more at Pandora’s intrigue. Clio was not usually a nervous type. “This man I’m looking for, I hear he’s a genius. Heard he makes all sorts of fun gadgets and toys – I want to see.”

“Now sweetie-honey, Batman is no man that you can--”

“Ew! Oh good lord, no!” Clio barked indignantly. “I got no interest in the Bat! Okay, sure, he has these positively marvelous toys but he won’t share them with anyone. Besides they’re all so…so… _safe_. No, no! I’m looking for a real genius. With death traps and puzzels and robots and--”

“You’re talking about Eddie.”

It was amusing to see how abruptly Clio could stop talking given she spoke so kuch. Pandora smiled as she watched the girl’s jaw snap shut and her eyes go wide. She was looking at Pandora the same way she used to when she was just a gangly little teen curled up in the corner of her bar. A mix of disbelief and awe, Pandora had missed that look of reverence. Although she was honestly a little surprised that Clio was looking for the Riddler. Maybe she was just surprised it had taken this long for her to try it.

“You know the Riddler?” She whispered feverishly, looking very much like Pandora had just delivered onto her a great secret. 

Anyone that knew Eddie knew he frequented the club for information. He’d always behaved himself and his former henchwomen had once been in Pandora’s employ. They thought very highly of him and that good favour had carried over.

“He drops by from time to time.” Pandora admitted with a slight shrug. “Not sure why you’d want to look for him. Eddie might watch his manners in my club but out there he’s hardly the safest form of entertainment. You could find plenty of other boys to play with.”

“But I don’t want to play with him, I want to _work_ with him!”

Pandora almost choked on laughter. Clio scowled at her, as the club owner struggled through her own disbelief and amusement. 

The girl would get herself killed no doubt but Pandora knew better that to advise her against this idea. Clio liked to do the opposite of what she was told, stupid girl. Riddler didn’t work well with others, he hadn’t had a good relationship with his own crew since Echo and Query had left. Their life expectancy had lowered at an alarming rate recently and with Clio’s rather… eccentric way of behaving she was liable to get on Eddie’s very last nerve, very quickly.

But Clio would do it all the same. Girl knew what she wanted, even if it was crazy. Once her laughter subsided, Pandora sighed with a small smirk curling on her lips.

“Well alright, squirt. I’ll throw you a bone.” Clio’s face positively lit up and Pandora took a great deal of pleasure in moments later killing that delight. “For a price of course.”

She expected complaining of a bit of pleading from the girl. So of course Pandora was surprised when Clio reached into her pocket and fished out what was a considerable amount of money to be walking around Gotham with. She thrust it out towards Pandora frantically, eyes wide and desperate. 

“It’s all I have.” Clio told her seriously. “I was going to use it to buy some new bolts and a screw driver set – did you know that they can snap really easily? I didn’t think so but the metal just broke in the middle, I…well I also have to fix the hole in the shed so I also needed some scrap metal but—”

Pandora watched in mild amazement as the girl began to ramble. Suspicion and curiosity rose up in her again. Clio had never had much money, not unlike a majority of Gotham’s regular citizens. To have Clio ready to throw all the money she had at Pandora for a scrap of information – she must have wanted this very, _very_ badly. She had no doubt that it was quite literally all the money Clio had. No hidden bank account of cash stashed away – this would be all of it. Despite the burning urge to know, Pandora didn’t ask. That was Clio’s business and if she did ask then she’d have to pay for that information in return and Pandora wasn’t about to do that. 

“Slow down, sweetie.” Pandora advised, plucking the notes from Clio’s hands. Pandora thought about taking it all but then showed a small degree of pity and handed Clio back a twenty. “Alright, so you want to find Eddie. Last I heard he was settled in the train yard collecting his crew again. Ask Reggie about it, he’s been in and out of Eddie’s employ for years now. I’ll let him know I’m vouching for you.” 

The girl was positively thrumming with energy now and Pandora for the briefest moment felt uncertainty. Should she tell Clio about the dangers? Try to talk some sense into the no doubt star struck child? She really considered it but ultimately said nothing to Clio – it would do neither of them any favours in the long run. Instead she resolved to tell Reggie a little more than just that she was vouching for the girl.

“I got to go.” Clio said hastily, she’d hardly been there for more than half an hour and Pandora knew she’d be rushing straight to the abandoned train yard. Pandora didn’t bother to comment on Clio’s lack of purchases, she’d bought information and that was enough for one night. She’d paid top dollar for it anyway. 

The fetish club owner had just resolved to go back to her usual rounds when Clio’s retreat skidded to a stop. An afterthought lodging itself in her head. The girl then turned back towards Pandora with one of those smiles that lit up the room. She might have been a wonderful actress but those rare genuine smiles had the ability to knock the breath out of people. Pandora was not unswayed by it when Clio turned her appreciation on her. 

Her sincerity was her greatest weapon and she didn’t even know she had it.

“Thank you so much, ma’am!” Clio called happily before bouncing away, leaving Pandora standing stock still in place. Wondering if she really should have tried to protect the stupid girl that just left her club.

With a small sigh Pandora pulled out her phone and rang Reggie. She could have gone to talk to him but there was work to still do inside the club. “Reg.” She spoke tiredly into the phone. “I’m going to need to call in a favour. You’re not going to like it one bit.”

That was as far as her charity was going to go. The rest was Clio’s, and now also Reggie’s, problem.

 

…  
…

 

It was little over three hours later that Clio found herself in the junk yard.

The scattered abandoned train shells and tracks were something of a novelty to her. She’d come here in her childhood years countless times, getting lost among the wreckage and losing unwanted followers in turn. She’d spent hours just digging through the dirt, looking at whatever oddities she could find. The trains were mostly gutted, leaving much to be desired but on the odd occasion she’d find a few mechanics left intact. 

Clio thought it was something like fate that she’d find the Riddle hauled up here. Of course when she’d exclaimed as much to Reggie – her unwilling chaperone – he’d commented on her lack of marbles. 

When the bouncer had complained about having to babysit her on her suicide mission Clio had offered to take herself to the train yard. Reggie had outright refused to let her drive with a passion usually reserved for more important issues. Like climate change or who would win in a fight between the bat and the super freak. His car his rules it had been. Still Clio thought she could have managed it just fine.

Reggie had been rightfully surprised when Clio barreled in demanding to be taken to Riddler. He’d gone from silent shock to cursing in a matter of seconds and then eventually followed up with queries about her sanity.

“Well you work for him.” Clio pointed out after a sharp comment about how stupid this was and Reggie was at a genuine loss for a rebuttal. She’d quietly stewed in her satisfaction after that. It was the more quiet she’d been the whole trip so Reggie didn’t even try to kick up another conversation. It wasn’t until they pulled up and found themselves knee deep in discarded scrap metal that she began talking again. 

Reggie had to begrudgingly admit that despite how ridiculous it all was, Clio seemed to be thrilled with her lot in life. Not many hired thugs entered the job looking so pleased with themselves. It was usually a desperate grab for money.

“He might not even be squatting here anymore.” Reggie called up to Clio. How did such a small girl throw herself onto such high ledges? Just looking at her scampering across the roof of a shipping cart made his stomach clench in dread. Heights, he just couldn’t seem to work his head around them. But Clio looked quite at home up there, scouring the yard like a child treasure hunting.

Honestly his comment was half hopeful – he wanted nothing more than to go home and forget Clio ever had this crazy idea. She’d had some doozies since they met but this took the cake. Even her prototype death traps seemed tame compared to this. 

“Optimism, Reg!” Clio shouted back down to him, ignoring the grumbled curse she got in reply. “Let’s see…if I were a green man where would I put my shed?”

Looking over the ruins of the yard, left to the elements for so many years, Clio tried to think about where she’d set up shop here. Clio then factored in the fact Riddler had a rather generous stash of money and a need to conceal himself from the Batman and police. Which meant that he couldn’t be out in the open that meant it was going to be a _secret lair_. Clio giggled excitedly at the notion. She’d always wanted a secret hidey-hole. 

“You think you’re going to find him up there?” Reggie called up to her again and Clio grinned impishly. He didn’t get it, in order to see what was down there she had to be up here. Kneeling down with hands planted firmly over the edge of the shipping cart, Clio began searching the ground. She didn’t pay any mind to the way Reggie seemed to turn white seeing her so casually leaning over the ledge.

“If I were a green man…” Looking for anything unusual Clio found herself focusing on a rather large cluster of discarded parts. Some of them were large enough to be gutted and repurposed for small rooms. Not a completely unappealing idea, one she tucked away for a rainy day.

“Reg!” Clio shouted back down, tittering over the edge much to her companions genuine horror. “Could you check out that cluster fu--”

“Watch your mouth, missy!” Reg shouted back a reflex from growing up as the oldest in a family of mostly girls and Clio smirked down at him. Shaking his head Reg cursed a little more himself and went to look at what had caught Clio’s eye. He didn’t see anything interesting in this junk yard, why Clio was so entertained with it was beyond him. Still he inspected the pile of scrap, it easily towered over him and Reggie was a little worried it might just collapse with him under it. 

At first he saw nothing particularly interesting. Just lots of different parts left to rust. He was about to tell Clio no dice and suggest they give up when he caught sight of something very familiar that left him exasperated. Sitting nestled comfortably at the very back of the pile that now resembled a cave entrance with this new knowledge, was a question mark. It was green.

“That’ll do it…” 

Sighing heavily Reggie stood back upright. He could hear Clio calling down to him, asking if he found anything and for a split second he considered lying. If only so he could go home and forget all about this nonsense. But Pandora had expressly asked him to do this, lying to Clio might be easy but he liked his job and life too much to chance lying to Pandora.

“Get down here.” He called to Clio and looked away so he wouldn't have to see the careless way she threw herself off the height. He could still hear the creak of metal from where she grabbed a jutting out metal beam to swing from and the thud as she landed and rolled on the dirty ground. 

She’s a gymnast. Reggie reminded himself sternly. She’s not going to fall, she’ll just give me a heart attack. Is all. 

Thankfully Clio’s gymnastic skills hadn’t failed her and seconds later she was at Reggie’s side, inspecting what he’d found. Excitedly she rushed forward to run her fingers over the symbol. 

“Great. So we found a clue.” He ignored the smirk Clio tossed him at the potential pun. “But now what?”

“Well Reggie, old boy. You worked for him, how did you usually get inside his sheds?” He had to resist the urge to tell her that a lair was most certainly not the same as a shed. 

Instead Reggie took a step back and scrutinized the structure. He’d been to three other hideouts of the Riddler’s over the years, depending on the place it could be as simple as opening the door or as contrived as solving a puzzle game. Usually with deadly consequences for getting the solution wrong.

Looking at this one, Reggie got the impression it was designed for security more than some others. Recently Riddler had been lying low and his paranoia seemed to her skyrocketed. Between Batman’s constant foiling of his plans and his tense relationship with the other rouges, he was right to be careful.

Careful but still insane. “There’ll be a riddle. Always is.” He always left a weakness, part of the reason Reggie didn’t work for him anymore. No one wanted a boss that actively ruined himself.

Clio was quiet, which alarmed Reggie. Then when he looked at her he realized she was thinking and that _terrified_ him. He didn’t dare say a word when she suddenly crouched down, dragging her shoulder bag in front of her to begin ratting around for something. However when she produced a shiny little device that looked far too much like a tinkering tool – Reggie’s self preservation skills kicked in.

“Clio, no.” He said it as firmly as he could but his anxiousness dulled the effect somewhat and she wasn’t stopping. Oh god, was that a small scale crowbar? “ _Clio_ , I want to live.” He tried again to no avail.

He took a step back as she began moving any loose parts of the structure she could find. Mildly horrified by what she was trying to do.

“I’m not very smart-”

“Clearly!” 

“-riddles go right over my head, I’m too stupid to figure them out-” She continued, unconcerned by her companions rising stress levels.

“He’s call the _Riddler_!”  
  
“-but I know how to open secret doors. Just let me get into the wiring.” Clio began happily chatting away while tugging what had looked like a simple metal panel away to find circuits inside. By that point Reggie was already beginning to regret putting off writing up his will. 

She’d just started to dig around in the hatch she’d pried open when suddenly the area filled with static and Reggie damn near had that heartattack he’d considered earlier.

“What are you _doing_?” He knew that screeching voice and Reggie had all but resigned himself to an early grave. “I demand you put that back where you found it right now!”

After all of Reggie’s attempts to stop Clio, it was actually surprising that the disembodied voice managed to do it. Clio paused in her ministrations, looking around for a speaker of some kind no doubt. Then understanding shone in her eyes and Clio smiled up into the air.

“You’re…You’re Riddler aren’t you?” She asked excitedly. Her excitement was not recuperated.

“Why yes I am, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll put those wires back where you found them this instant.” Obviously Clio didn’t know what was good for her.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Clio gushed; very nearly bouncing in her excitement while Reggie thanked their lucky stars that Riddler hadn’t just released some type of countermeasure death trap on them yet. “You are a hard man to find, but, well, here you are! Hey, let us in.”

It was one of those rare moments where for a second the Riddler was actually stumped. Reggie caught it in the small moment of silence, his former boss was not known for silences. Clio had flawed him and for a second Reggie felt a small swell of vindictive satisfaction – old habits and all. It was not a feeling that lasted long.

“I—well…” The static of the speaker didn’t do it any favours when it tended to distort every once in a while. An effect no doubt left in on purpose. One that sounded far less intimidating when the speaker on the other end stuttered. “Well of course I’m not easy to find! What, you think that this is like the Elliot Hospital rig? No! I’m not supposed to be found!” Riddler finally found his words again and chose insult to cover his stumble.

“How did you even…? No, it doesn’t matter. What do you want?” He finally asked, exasperated with all of this. With not knowing what was going on, with not knowing why this girl was even here. His pride couldn’t stand not knowing things.

“I want to work for you.” Clio announced firmly and it was all Reggie could do not to groan.

“You…?” Once again Riddler had to recover from being momentarily flawed by the tiny girl. “Naturally! Of course you do! Who wouldn’t want to work for the Riddler?” 

“Does that mean I have the job?”

“No. My apologies, there are no vacancies at this time for rude young ladies. Have a nice day, oh and close that panel on your way out.” Pointblank. No arguments sort of tone. _Rejection_.

Abruptly the static was cut off and the hand that Clio had left near the wires was given a nasty little shock, successfully getting her away from it with a little yelp of alarm. Honestly Reggie had to say this was a pretty good conclusion to their little adventure. Clio was still staring at the would be door with a look caught between shock and confusion. She looked about as stunned as Riddler had no doubt been with her. Reggie took that as his chance to get her out of here while they could still walk.

“Well that’s that.” He said quickly, placing hands behind Clio’s back to try and usher her away from the place. “Time to head home, did all we could.”

He really shouldn't’ have been surprised when suddenly Clio was out of his grasp and glaring back at Riddler’s hideout. She looked like he’d just made a quip about her mother of something equally distasteful and Reggie felt a migraine coming on. Clio got that look sometimes, he’d seen it once or twice before – each time resulted with her having to get physically removed from Pandora’s Box. 

She wasn’t done.

“Why that arrogant…!” Clio began and Reggie knew that no pleading on his end would get her to simmer down. “That egotistical, nerdy little—I need this job damn it!” He couldn’t do anything but sit back and watch as Clio began to fling things at the hideout entrance. Reggie could only hope that Riddler didn’t have cameras and if he did that he wasn’t currently watching the angry little girl toss things at his property.

“I oughta…!” She heaved another piece of scrap metal at the hideout and Reggie took one more step back. She had some power behind those throws. “I came all this way and what does he say? ‘No vacancies’? I _need_ this!”

Clio stopped throwing things, all the anger draining out of her. Leaving the young woman with nothing but her desperation and the crushing sense of failure. “There has to be something I can do…I can fix anything so…” She dropped the scrap metal she’d been preparing to toss and followed it to the ground not long after.

“I have to fix…”

Reggie took some pity on the girl. For all her craziness and despite how ill advised this whole idea had been – she had wanted it very badly. 

“Come on, Clio. Lets get you home before you hurt yourself.” Reggie told her gently. Not daring to touch her without permission. He knew better. “Last thing I need is to go back to Pandora and tell her you ended up I hospital or something.”

“Hospital.” She caught on the word and Reggie for what must have been the thousandth time that night, cursed himself. “The Elliot Memorial Hospital…” 

Then she was up and going again. Reggie called out to her as she dashed off, caught between offering her a lift and telling her to get her stupid ass back home. Clio only glanced over her shoulder shouting back that he didn’t have to wait up and then she was gone. Weaving in and out of the old train carts to go do god only knows what.

Pandora was going to kill him.

 

…  
…

 

Clio had always fancied herself as somewhat of an artist. Both in the things she created and how she could maneuver her body when the need arose. She was no stranger to scaling great heights or cramming herself into almost impossible spaces. As a child it had driven Ward nearly mad with concern.

He’d been frantic the first time he found her on the roof but even her brother’s fretting could be overruled when he heard her reason for hiding on the roof. Similarly he didn’t chide her too harshly whenever he found her in the attic or hidden under a sink. For a child like Clio who couldn’t fight, hiding became the next best option. That had been a long time ago and she’d since learnt how to handle herself far better.

Hiding was still a useful tactic but Clio felt assured that she could at least give a bully a run for their money now days. However her days of fleeing and hiding had served her well and so when Clio found herself staring up at the Elliot Memorial Hospital, squinting past the rain to catch a glimpse of something green glowing – it was only a matter of not being seen as she scampered up the building. Her only grievance was that she didn’t have a grappling hook like a certain bat. Must have made this climbing business a breeze. 

It didn’t take her long to find herself on one of the flat surfaces between the ground and the roof. The building had plenty of flat planes between its base and highest point. Clio found herself roughly in the middle, standing over what looked like some sort of cage. Inside of it was a glowing question mark statue and she found herself marveling at it.

Did he make them himself? No doubt he couldn’t order them from anywhere and customizing something like this was definitely going to leave traces behind. He had to have made it himself. Clio had heard rumors about these things, heard about the scavenger hunts Batman sometimes had to partake in. Although she’d also heard the rumors were greatly exaggerated. As far as she knew there’d only been about fifty of these things ever placed down at any given time. It seemed Riddler was still testing them out for the most part.

However Clio didn’t try to grab the trophy through its cage. She had also heard that sometimes these things could be detrimental to one’s health. Shocking people who got too grabby or releasing a trap of some kind. Curious as to what the catch might be with this one Clio glanced around. Besides the wires that lead to the cage there were a few tools scattered around, as if whoever was assembling this had just left halfway through and abandoned their things. Clio was more than happy to pick up after them, finders keepers and all that. 

She had just started to gather up a few of the scattered tools when an entirely separate green glow caught her eye. Unsurprisingly it was another question mark. This one was flat and mounted up to the wall behind the trophy. After a brief inspection she found the neon sign had a sort of button placed in the dot at the bottom of the mark. Now Clio didn’t know about everyone else but a giant glowing button demanded it be pressed. All it needed now was to be red and it would practically look like a doomsday button.

Clio just placed her hand flat against its bulbous surface before pausing. Again those rumors and cautionary tales filtered through her brain. There was every chance pushing this button would be the last bad decision she ever made, but she wanted to make it _so_ badly. 

Torn, Clio glanced around again. This time in the hopes of seeing what the button might do so that she could convince herself it was perfectly alright to press it. There didn’t seem to be anything else on the roof besides the trophy, neon button sign and the abandoned tools. Just her and the various pieces to a puzzle that she wasn’t particularly interested in solving. Clio didn't like puzzles; she knew she wasn’t bright enough to solve them. Fixing things and solving puzzles were two _very_ different things.

However she was exceedingly fond of button pushing and proving a point. So down went her hand and beep went the button.

Clio almost fell over her own two feet when she jumped in alarm. A sharp sound of mechanics whirling behind her startling they young girl. Eager to see the results Clio looked back at the cage and yipped in glee when she saw its claw like barricades had come down. She never for a second questioned the ease with which the supposed puzzle was solved. Instead Clio scampered on over to the trophy and snatched it up, only to – of course – have the cage snap shut once she was close to it. 

Staggering to a halt Clio did a quick reassessment of the puzzle and terrain. Suspicious she tested the area surrounding the puzzle cage and found it had a different surface texture to the rest of the building. So someone had been ratting around up here and putting down either pressure of motion sensors. Which meant that the button would release the cage but if she stepped anywhere near it the sensors would lock it back up again. No doubt the bat would have a gadget for this sort of dilemma.

Disheartened Clio plonked herself down in front of the cage, glaring daggers at the little trophy inside. This may have been where a sane person would relent. Return to GCPD and deliver the bad news and beg for a bit of extra money to cover what she’d blown getting here. More likely a sane person would have stopped back at the train yard – Clio never was much of a quitter. 

Instead she resolved to sit right there on that rooftop in the pattering rain till an idea presented itself.

Clio was there for two hours. 

In those two hours she tried the button a few more times. Tried running for the trophy but missed it each time without fail. When it was clear that mad rushes weren’t going to help with this puzzle not being time based Clio began to tested the sensors and decided they were definitely pressure not motion prompted. She complained at the trophy a few times and outwardly exerted herself just fiddling with the cage itself. The mechanics of it had her attention for at least half of that hour. Over time it managed to widdle down some of her anger, purely because its design fascinated her. She was simply in love with its construction and admittedly that did endear the green nerd to her a little. However the rain and lack of success quickly squashed most of that endearment. 

It was deep into the night when Clio realized she wasn’t getting anywhere marveling at the design. There were no included failsafe she could see or manual way to deactivate the cage, which meant that button was literally the only method of opening it for her.

She thought about her predicament very carefully for a few minutes longer. She was no honour student. She knew machines and wrenches better than anyone else this side of Gotham but she couldn’t answer a history question to save her life and spelling was always nightmare. She was a tinker not a thinker.

Frustrated with herself, the trophy and this whole blasted night Clio ended up throwing one of the abandoned tools in a fit of childish anger. That would be the second time that night she threw something at her problems. It was therapeutic. It did her some good to get it out of her system and it was satisfying when the wrench hit the cage with a loud clang of metal on metal.

“Lucky ya bolted down.” She told the cage. “Or you would have gone flying.” 

A few seconds passed. Then it hit her. What an idiot she was! Clio scrambled for the tool she’d seconds ago thrown without a care. Retrieving it and holding it close like a lifeline, Clio returned to the button with renewed excitement. She had it; she absolutely had it this time!

This time when she slammed her hand down on the button and the cage wailed shrilly as it fell open, Clio didn't rush for it. Instead she readied the tool she’d chosen. It was heavy and broad – she’d thrown enough wrenches in her time to aim this one. With one swift swing of her arm she sent the wrench flying at the trophy. There was a moment of nail biting anxiety as it cleared the space between her and the trophy. 

Then sound. The wrench made contact and the trophy with a lond clang and it was knocked clean out of it's cage. The moment the wrench hit the ground its weight triggered the cage to snap up tight again, but to no effect. The trophy had fallen outside of its reach and it now caged nothing but air and failure. 

Clio let out a squeal of delight and dashed to collect the prize. In her excitement she didn’t recall her earlier concerns about being shocked and it was incredibly lucky that this little trophy did not administer a nasty deterrent when the wrong set of hands picked it up. Evidentially this trophy couldn’t decipher between bat and brat. 

Her celebration was short lived. With the trophy taken of course the Riddler knew. As to how he hadn’t noticed her tampering up until that point was anyone’s best guess. Might have had something to do with the Bat currently having his hands full with Crane earlier that night. He hadn’t expected any trophy hunting to go on tonight. 

“That’s not for you!” Riddler all but shrieked through his speaker system and Clio again wondered how many places he hag bugged around Gotham. She’d guess a substantial number. “How did you even get that? Put that back where you--” He recognized the meddler. “What? You _again_? I don't believe this.”

“I got the trophy!” Clio chirped excitedly over Riddlers comments, thrusting the green statue in the air to show it off. She didn’t actually know what direction the Riddler was viewing this, but it didn’t matter to her. She’d won and she was incredible pleased with herself. While the original owner of that trophy was adamant that she must have cheated in some way.

Riddler again hesitated, left grappling for the right mix of fury and bewilderment. Clio didn’t pay him any mind, didn’t even seem to notice his anger – too caught up in her own glee to pay that much attention. 

“You know I thought it was odd at first, like maybe you made a mistake. Picking pressure sensors I mean. If it had been timed it would have been way easier – oh but that's not the point, right? But if you’d made it motion sensors I never would have gotten it.” 

This time when Edward Nygma stuttered it was a very nearly incoherent mess of insult and distortion thanks to his chosen communication style. Him make a mistake? Who did this woman think she was currently addressing? He was one wrong word away from finding a way to kill the girl. Didn’t know her name, age or place of residence but he’d definitely find a way. It wouldn’t be hard to find her but picking a suitable method of extermination might boggle his mind for a while.

Naturally the girl in question wasn’t picking up on any of this and instead continued on her own little tangent while admiring her prize.

“But you’re so clever!” She told the open air enthusiastically, a tiny bounce in her step. “I knew you were a genius but I didn't know anyone could be this smart. Of course you made it pressure sensitive, otherwise it would be pointless!”

“I did?” Riddler asked, momentarily thrown off balance, then. “I- uh – I mean of course I did! I don’t need a novice like you to tell me about my genius intellect! How else is one expected to test their intelligence without a fair puzzle? Right, this was all part of my plan.”

Clio just beamed, awe etched into ever feature of her face. She thought mister Edward Nygma was perhaps one of the cleverest men she’d ever met. Who else could think to make a flaw in their own design just to make it a winnable exploit?

From his hideout, still safely secured under the train yard, Riddler’s mood shifted a bit. He was still put out by most everything going on but hearing such honest appreciation for his brilliance did tend to sooth his ruffled nerves a touch. It was rightful praise, he should expect no less but Gotham had turned out such tactless brutes these past few years – many didn’t recognize his genius. 

He was a far cry from happy but his thoughts on murdering the girl in her sleep for her insolence had faded to a simple potential future endeavor as opposed to top of his to do list. 

“Pardon me my dear, but I don’t believe I ever caught your name?” His tone had shifted, he sounded less agitated and Clio couldn’t be more thrilled.

“My name is Clio.” She told the sky above her. “And I wanted to meet you very badly, Mr Nygma.”

“Obviously. Who wouldn’t want to meet the smartest man in all of Gotham?”

“Gotham?” Clio repeated, astounded by the Riddlers humble comment. “Sir you’re the smartest man I’ve ever met! You gotta be the smartest man in the country!” 

Now Edaward knew all of this, of course. He was perfectly aware of his own overwhelming intellect. This was hardly news to him, but to hear it come out of the young woman’s mouth was disarming. He studied her face and words over the camera system he had and found not a hint of sarcasm or trickery. She meant it and Edward was hard pressed to think of the last time someone had meant it when they praised him so wholeheartedly.

“Flattery, my dear. It’ll do you no good, but please do continue.” He told her and was equal parts amused and perplexed when she laughed brightly in response.

Perhaps he’d been too hasty. He’d been keeping his goon numbers low in recent months. The Bat had been going a little overboard as of late and Edward had no intentions of getting dragged back to Arkham. Especially not while he was working on a new set of trails for the Batman. As a result he might have been a touch distracted and even more jaded when this girl first turned up on his doorstep.

He owed such a persistent thing a chance to linger in his greatness didn’t he? Why, it would be the most sensational thing to happen to her in the entirety of her miserable life! No one could ever claim that the Riddler was not charitable, now could they? 

“Clio, was it?” He began again over the speakers. “That position I mentioned earlier – it may have just become available.”

 


End file.
